Sector Capri: Exodus
by RadioJane
Summary: The mystery continues as Nightbeat, joined by his partner, Siren, must depart from Cybertron and venture beyond to find the key to the Decepticons' plans to win the war before it begins, and perhaps the key to his father's killing as well.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Finally! I've been thinking and planning this story out for the past _year_ since having completed Sector Capri , and I've finally gotten myself to start the actual writing process. To any of you who were along for the ride the first time around and are returning, I am eternally grateful to you for being patient with me. To those who are new to the scene, welcome! I would recommend reading the first Sector Capri story, as there will be a number of allusions made to it, but that is of course up to you. I'll try to make it so that things mentioned from the first story are explained for anyone who's not read it, but some things will o'course go unspoken. As in the first story, I'm making it my mission to include _tons_ of of our favorite characters in major roles, and we'll be following a number of them in their personal struggles as the war begins to unfold.

I also promise a healthy dose of Bounty Hunters, Dinobots, Prowl's prickery, and the general antics that can be expected when Nightbeat's on the case. Not to mention, this time we'll be going beyond Cybertron to a number of alien planets! On a side note-this story is rated T for Cybertronian language, references of alien alchohol and smoking, and what's a Transformers tale without violence.

Please Enjoy! Anonymous reviews are enabled, so don't be shy to leave your thoughts, I live for feedback! ^_^

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><p>Ever have a dream where you can't move? Where it feels like your hydraulic lines have been cut and your legs weigh as much as a Constructicon? You know there's something coming, you know it's nothing good, and you know it's moving a lot faster than you and your useless pistons. That's where I'm at—that's where I've <em>been<em>. It's been seven years since the High Council became aware of the unpleasant fact that a growing faction of revolutionist Gladiators known as the Decepticons are on the lookout for the transformation cog of the Trypticon space station; what Trypticon can be used for, I'm still trying to uncover. Seven years, and yet we still sit dormant. There have been attacks on cities in the Southern Hemisphere, hostile takeovers of entire city-states lead by native gangs—and the High Council acts like they're not linked. I guess so long as Iacon and the rest of the Northern city-states remain untouched, then the High Council could care less, so long as we keep getting our shipments of materials and energon—which, strangely enough, we have been.

I don't know about the rest of Iacon, but I'm not an idiot. I know what's going on in the South, and I know why we in the North are still getting the Southern-imported supplies we need. The Decepticons' influence is spreading, oppressed gangs from poverty-stricken districts are rising up in their cities and taking over, but are keeping it so quiet that we in the North apparently don't feel threatened. They keep sending us our supplies so we don't complain and move against them—and they're also buying themselves time to grow in numbers and power.

I've been following the progression of the Decepticons ever since my first encounter with them seven years ago, when I was abducted and brought before Megatron himself as a youngling. For the most part, they've been building their forces and have been finding the means to bring in the supplies they need to support their growing army slowly, taking great care to be patient so as to not draw too much attention to themselves. They've been incredibly organized and cautious in their ways, making it a bit difficult to track their deeds.

As of late, however, they're moving faster, taking bolder actions. Something's changed the name of their game, and that's what led me to the Northern-most Decepticon-aligned city-state of Tarn. As a city that borders Iacon, though separated by a lengthy highway, I figured it was the best choice I had for seeing what the Decepticons are up to up-close. I had heard from an underground source that the militaristic powerhouse city-state had willfully joined the Decepticon cause, perhaps in part due to it being the birthplace of Megatron. I learned also that Tarn has granted the Decepticons full access to their resources, including their enslaved workforce, and that they've been using them to work several mines across the city-state's bounds; whatever it is the Decepticons are looking for or might have already found, I have a feeling it's a part of the reason why they've picked up the pace.

I was able to sneak into one of the mining camps with ease, and what I saw made my tanks churn. There were bots of weak builds, knee-deep in oil-tainted mud, digging and sifting for whatever the Decepticons were searching for. Watching them, I noticed that there was something peculiar about the behavior and appearance of the ones that looked like they'd been in the mines longer than others—their chassis were covered in dark veins, and their optics appeared to have had the life sucked right out of them. I also saw about five different violent fights break out amongst them, as though they were possessed by some kind of wicked line of coding. They were like soulless beasts.

Deciding that I'd seen enough, I made my way through the mining site, avoiding notice from the Decepticon guards, and found the jackpot. Within a locked warehouse (though bots never seem to think that locking the entrances to air ventilation systems is important, luckily for me), I found the fruits of the Decepticons' labor. Stored in a modified, factory-size energon containment cube were what must have been thousands of tiny, dark purple crystals. _This _is what has the Decepticons so hyped up? Tiny crystals? They looked more like sub-grade energon grits to me. Figuring that there was more than met the optic with these crystals, I decided to take a small sample—and unwittingly set off the facility's alarms.

Remember that sensation of not being able to move in a chase-dream? I find that there's a stark resemblance of it when being launched through the air. I managed to escape from the warehouse and mining compound, but not without a tail. I'm winded as I come crashing down onto the unforgiving road of the highway leading away from Tarn, but I'm quick to transform and get my tires spinning when I feel the rumble of a tank-former's treads vibrate in my chest compartment. Of all the bad luck in this universe, I had to get a sloppy second serving of a thick-hulled thug called _Brawl._ Put simply, he and I have a little history, none of it anything to get nostalgic over.

If I recall correctly, I'm pretty sure I was the somewhat indirect cause of his cleansing bath in a Smelting Pool a while back. How he survived and is still kickin' (more like stomping) today is any bot's guess. My tires squeal a little as I rip through the rubble-strewn highway, my spark pounding adrenaline through my energon lines as I hear the ominous crunching of treads picking up speed behind me.

"Ya little _runt_! You think you can just sniff around and take off without even sayin' _'hello'_?" the gruff vocalizer of the tank lets out.

Aw, I think he missed me.

"Oh, this is gonna be just like old times! Only _this _time, I don't got no bot to tell me I can't pop that scrawny neck of yours!" he cackles as he shoots off an armor-piercing shell, the laugh taking on a maniacal tone when the following explosion sends hot shrapnel and debris across my alt-form, earning a startled yelp from me.

'Don't got no bot', a double negative. Either he's still in need of a grammar lesson, or he's hoping I won't catch him in a word-twisting bluff. I decide it's not best to test my luck and continue as fast as I can down the highway. I just have to make it a little further, where I have a back-up plan waiting to be set off. I had a feeling I might end up running from Tarn with pursuers, so I took some precautions before entering the city.

I'm ripped from my thoughts of strategy as another tank shell blasts the road from under me, again sending me airborne. I instinctively transform in midair, my optics widening as I see Brawl transform into his bipedal form as well while I'm tumbling upside-down through the air. My spark shoots up into my throat as I suddenly realize that I'm not falling towards the lifted highway, but rather off the edge into the endless pit below. Falling to my death, not really the way I thought I'd go out.

Just as I'm about to watch a rewind of my life events, I'm struck in the midsection by a thick beam of metal and sent crashing back onto the roadway, dazed. What the frag just happened? I roll over onto my side and as I'm lifting myself onto my knees, I release a sharp growl at the gritty hand that seizes me by my back armor and lifts me. I feel a sense of de ja vu as I'm brought face-to-face with the ugly mug of a grinning Brawl who's looking me over like he's considering how to cook me. Out of my own pride and usual line of not-so-grand reactions, I try throwing jabs at the towering mech, only to find that just like seven years ago, my arms are still too short to even come close to brushing the tank's chin. I guess I'm just sticking to the traditions of my usual exchanges with the mech; now if only I could find a Smelting Pool.

"I could just ask you to hand over the crystals, but then there'd be no fun in that. So how about we see how many parts I have to pop open before they come falling out instead?" the mech says in a gleeful, sadistic tone, his ugly optic brightening in anticipation.

He really has a way with words despite only having about twenty stuffed into his dull CPU.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Another week, another chapter! Thank you to my lovely reviewers, your feedback lets me know what catches your attention in a chapter so I can give you more! Not to mention, it is my energon :l *geek alert*

Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>The mech's breathing is heavy and rough, each warm puff of air that blows across my face from his intakes making me cringe as I helplessly dangle in his hold. An entire eon seems to go by with every nano-klik as the Decepticon thug called Brawl stares at me, and I can see it in his gaze that he's been wanting this for a long time. I can sense it, all the anxiety and fury that I must've incited in him seven years ago has been building ever sense, and now he can finally vent it all out. For some reason, however, I'm still breathing; why hasn't he snuffed my spark out yet? What is he waiting for?<p>

Then it hits me. Brawl's always been the type who likes games, he gets a high when he can bring out the most primal of emotions and instincts in a bot. I feel my tanks sink as his gruff vocalizer sounds.

"You're like a fraggin' spook or somethin'. You were in that warehouse with me when it exploded. I drowned you. I shot at you. Frag, _everybot_ shot at you. The Smelting Pool should've swallowed you whole when it flowed over and consumed the base, like it did me." This is probably the most eerily calm I've ever heard the tank-former's voice. He brings me closer to his face as he continues, "All these years, I thought you finally bit the rust that cycle. But at the same time, I never quite felt closure, I had a feeling that you'd managed to crawl outta that mess in Kaon… and it turns out I was right…"

I feel my spine tingle as a low chuckle quietly leaves him.

"What a stroke of luck, who'd a' thunk that you'd stick that olfactory sensor of yours in my turf again? Maybe there really is a Primus." His single, yellow optic darkens as he slowly begins to tighten his hold on my helm, a sharp hiss coming from my intakes as I kick my pedes. "All these years of waiting for closure, and now I get to make it myself."

I've heard enough. Deciding that I've got a zero percent chance of survival in this lug's hands, I pull out my last resort, a remote detonator. Only problem in this scenario—I'm not very remote from what I'm detonating. A dark, burning amusement fills me as Brawl's dumb face takes on an even dumber look of surprise as I brandish the remote and proceed to slap it onto his face to make sure he can see what's coming.

Feeling the urge to frag the towering thug off one last time, I decide to wrap things up with a final line, "Maybe Primus doesn't like you very much." With that, I flick off the detonator's safety cap, offlining my optics as I hit the discharge button.

I feel a rush of cold through my energon lines, my chassis going numb as the charges I set on the edges of the highway about a klick behind us go off, my chest compartment filling with reverberations as I feel the heat of the flames on my cheeks. Onlining my optic sensors again, I find that Brawl is occupied with watching as the bridged highway behind him dissolves into the growing fireball, and I take my opening. Transforming quickly, my folding armor plates pinch the mech's thick fingers hard enough to make him release me, and I hit the road speeding. As I fly across the dirty highway, I feel a flutter of fear in my spark at the sound of Brawl's vengeful screams mixing with the collapsing highway. I release my own string of slurs as my back tires suddenly begin to lose their traction on the road—likely a result of the road falling out from beneath them as it topples down into the unwelcoming abyss below. Gunning my accelerator as hard as I can without blowing a fuel line, I rely primarily on my front tires to pull me through before releasing a hysterical laugh of relief as my back tires scrape onto solid ground again.

My skittish wheels take me a few more hics before I finally transform and turn, looking back at the gap in the bridge connecting Iacon to Tarn. Well, at least the cluster bombs I set were behind us rather than ahead, I don't know how I would've gotten back to Iacon otherwise. Now hopefully I won't be caught and charged with the destruction of city-state property, not that anybot in Iacon particularly cares for visits to Tarn. I walk over to the edge of the broken highway and look down into the deep chasm below, wondering if Brawl could've survived that one. I wouldn't count on it, but then again I'm crossing my pistons hoping I'm right.

With a heavy vent of air, I settle my nerves only a little before I turn and transform, starting towards Iacon once more with my mysterious samples of stone. As I pass around the debris and feel the cold breeze of the desolate highway, I start playing word games in my processor to keep myself distracted. What could these stones be? They could be the reason why the Decepticons are overtaking more city-states and enslaving the citizens. They're stones of a growing war machine. They're gained through the destruction of lives, and may be used for the creation of further death.

Dark stones. Chaos stones. Death stones. Perhaps they're valuable to the Decepticons like diamonds are to alien species from the history books. Blood diamonds. Has a ring to it.

They're blood diamonds.

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><p>"Commander Barricade."<p>

The dark mech being addressed continues to brood for a moment, standing at a window overlooking an energon mine in the lower pits of Kaon. The Enforcer Department of this city has been subdued by the Decepticon's fear tactics and manipulation of the Department's greed, making it a useful tool for the rising army to obscure the true activities happening just below the surface. The Decepticons have achieved this in many of the city-states across Cybertron's Southern Hemisphere, and with every dominated city comes another handful of these energon mines. Only, energon isn't the only thing they're digging for.

The Decepticon grunt standing at attention grows jittery at his Commanding Officer's silence, "Commander…?"

Barricade turns his helm and shoots a sharp glance at the soldier, earning a twitch from the mech's pistons. "I told you not to bother me unless there's bleeding, fire, or orders from Megatron."

"Y-Yes, sir, I understand, but there's been an urgent message delivered," the soldier begins, his optics widening in fear as the dark commander begins to advance towards him with murder in his faceplates, "It's from Commander Brawl! He told me to give this to you right away, he said you'd understand!" The soldier's voice is something close to a high squeal at his point, cowering as the other mech—shorter in stature, ironically—nearly touches noses with him.

Barricade stares the pitiful grunt down for a klik before glancing to the soldier's hands, snatching away the datapad he's holding. He glances down at the screen before looking to the soldier again, deciding to give the bot a good reason to remember his orders next time, "So are you saying you're more afraid of _Brawl_ than you are of me? You'll listen to _his_ orders over mine?"

Barricade can't hold back a wicked smile as the trembling grunt goes pale in response, "N-No, sir! I mean, I brought you the message because it seemed urgent, and I thought you would be angrier if it wasn't delivered right away!"

"So you disobeyed me." Barricade responds dryly, walking towards the other bot as the other takes retreating steps backwards, the unsettling smile still present.

"Well, I—Sir, please accept my apologies, it won't happen again, sir, please!"

Figuring he's made his point well enough, Barricade drops the smile and frowns deeply at the grunt, "Get out my sight and get back to work." Turning his back to the fleeing mech, he onlines the datapad and opens the message file from his longtime comrade, Brawl. His frown deepens as the message plays before he throws the datapad at the wall, the screen flashing before it shatters into shimmering shards. "So the Capri brat's got his olfactory sensor back in the game…"

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><p>It's nearly time to stop by my mom's job and act like I've been learning hard in school all day by the time I make it back to Iacon, my home city-state. I work out some kinks in my joint hydraulics as I transform and stand in bipedal mode, growling lightly to myself when I find that my armor is covered in scratches and patches of black soot from the explosion. It's my usual look, and most bots are accustomed to seeing me around town like this, but it's a dead giveaway to what I've really been up to. I act casual as I pass through the heavily treaded streets of Sector Capri, aiming for my family's one-room apartment, but I don't get far as a familiar flash of white armor cuts me off.<p>

I stop in my tracks and look up at the freshly-promoted Enforcer, mustering up as little enthusiasm as possible as I greet him, "Prowl."

The Praxian native doesn't seem to bear much gusto himself as he returns the gesture, "Nightbeat."

Taking the opening the tactician graduate unintentionally left widely awaiting, I make a move to step around the tall mech, "I'll just be going, then." As expected, I'm again brought to a halt as his arm darts in front of me, and I release an indignant groan. "What?" I ask almost innocently, though the growl in my voice probably betrays that I know too well what he plans on saying.

Prowl gives me an unimpressed look (something he's exceedingly good at) with a raised optic ridge, his blocking hand moving and resting on my shoulder to seem more _friendly_ as opposed to being restraining. He doesn't fool either of us, and he surely knows it. Looking me over with scrutinizing optics, he states the obvious, "You've been busy. I wasn't aware that the academy had such extracurricular activities that would result in looking like you've been put through a scrap grinder."

I hold my lips tightly together to keep them from curling into a snarl at the Praxian's curt, knowing tone. He has such a way of acting oblivious while letting you know that he's quite aware of just what you've been up to. Sometimes, I think I would prefer it if he would just sling me over his shoulder and carry me home to my mother for grounding rather than go through these tangling dance motions. Though, I guess I'd be lying if I didn't say I get some amount of enjoyment from our mind games.

Taking my silence as an opportunity for further pricking, Prowl forcibly turns me around to walk alongside him, away from my home and towards the Enforcer Academy; where he currently has a position as an Officer in the Department branch of the campus, and I have mine as a student. I always find it interesting how such a prestigious school as Iacon's Enforcer Academy, which has a Department grouped within it for doubled purposes, is located in one of Iacon's lowest sectors of the caste system. Nonetheless, it has at least provided something of a hopeful opportunity for the local younglings of Sector Capri, as their families are given something of a hopeful "discount" on tuition. In my case, I somehow got a scholarship plastered onto me, likely the Department's way of keeping their optic on me—or so they think.

I huff as I walk along with Prowl, resisting the urge to tell him about my findings in Tarn. It used to be that I told him about everything I was investigating, as he's always been like a protective, older brother to me. Only, that's what has become the issue as of late. Ever since the incident seven years ago, he's been watching me like a cyber-hawk, and hasn't been too excited whenever he finds out I've been gumshoeing when I should be studying.

"You've been leaving city limits again. Your signature has shown up four times in the past week on the city checkpoint scanners," Prowl starts, looking down at me sternly, "You've been lying to your mother about school again."

I bite my lip to keep my mouth shut for a moment to give my gears a chance to cool off before I respond. Prowl can only _assume_ it's my energy signal he's catching on the city's border scanners, namely due to the fact that I wear a black market signal scrambler whenever I leave Iacon to mask my trail. "So what is this, our routine interrogation? I've got the best grades in my class, Prowl, my mom knows all that she needs to…"

"You've got a smart mouth on you, Nightbeat, and it's starting to get old," he retorts with a tight frown.

That _comeback_ is getting old, Prowl.

Shifting the spotlight from myself to the other mech, I look up at him with feigned interest, "That's a pretty sharp set of armor you've got on there, I haven't seen any other Enforcers wearing anything like it…"

I can tell that I've tapped onto an unwanted subject as the Praxian's optics shift away momentarily before he looks to me, sighing lightly as he gives up the chase for the moment, "Yes, it's a new prototype, only a select few of us have been given a set."

A prototype? Why would an Officer of his rank be set up with a _prototype? _

"What's so special about it?" I ask, my tone losing its edge. It's not often that we just _talk _to one another these days, like we used to.

"Actually, it has an upgrade you'd be… familiar with."

I frown lightly as he again shifts his optics away from me. Something's up. I keep the tone casual to see if I can prod out whatever he's hiding, "And that would be…"

He finally looks to me again, seeming to figure that I'm not going to let him avoid answering me, "Rheanimum. It's built with Reheanimum-coated Cybertanium. The Science Department salvaged what was left from the factory that the Smelting Pool overflowed in…"

The same Smelting Pool factory that Mirage and I had been held captive in seven years ago… and the same Rheanimum shipments that the gangs that created chaos in my home sector had brought in. I see.

"I can't imagine that there was a lot to salvage, after the damage that was caused… just how many sets of Rheanimum armor can be made from it?"

"It's only a prototype, nothing is for certain at this point." He responds, clearly trying to avert me from my set line of questioning.

"It looks pretty good for a prototype, Prowl. So here's what makes me curious: How come only a 'select' few—all of which I'm guessing are high-rankers like yourself here in Iacon—get the best armor rather than the front-liners who's job description might as well be 'cannon fodder'? I bet they sure as Pit could use that armor in _Kaon_, where the cops are practically shot on sight if they wander to far from their _allotted precinct_."

I know I've struck a chord too high up the tightly-laced mech's line of patience as he turns and looks down at me with a warning gaze, "This is your problem, Nightbeat. You think you know everything that's going on, and you think it's _your job_ to fix it. You're a _child_, Nightbeat, your place is _in school_, with other children. Not to mention, I'm sure _Siren_ would appreciate you being around more often."

Oh no he didn't… I again bite my lip, unable to suppress a hard frown as he crosses _my_ line in mentioning Siren. I look away from him, swallowing a lump in my throat as guilt begins to consume me at the thought of the younger mech that I've grown up with.

Knowing that he's hit his mark good and deep, Prowl rolls his shoulders, loosening up some of the tension in them as he barks a final order at me, "Go home, Nightbeat. Your mother's gone through enough and needs you, so I expect you to be waiting for her when she returns tonight."

With that, he releases my shoulder and continues down the street towards the Department, leaving me to make my decision of whether or not to obey. This time, I will, for now. I turn and start the walk back towards the apartment.

Siren… I've been too busy for you. Too busy to be the brother I promised us both I'd be to you. I wonder if you still wait for me every morning at the front of the Academy, hoping to see me arrive. I hope you're not. But you probably do.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Spring Break next week, I might be posting up another chapter before next Friday. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far, things will start speeding up soon. ^_^

Please Enjoy and Review! Anonymous reviews are enabled, in case you don't have an account here.

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><p>"Prowl came by the oil pub today, Beat."<p>

I turn my helm and glance over at my mother, who's now the owner of the Rusty Ruby oil pub. She's been slowly paying her way through medical training, still aiming to someday become CMO Ratchet's protégé. It makes me feel a little guilty, knowing she's working hard to get into classes while I've been given a free ride through the Enforcer Academy.

My mother sits down on the edge of my berth beside me and puts her arm around me, "He says you've not been going to school… that he saw you running around the streets today." She keeps her tone soft, but I'm already shivering at the subtle edge to it.

So the Praxian ratted me out. Should've figured he would. Although… it doesn't sound like Mom's savvy to the fact that I've been leaving the city limits. Maybe this is Prowl's way of setting me straight without throwing me into the fire. I look down at my hands and shrug lightly.

A sigh leaves Mom's intakes as she glances to the window in our one-room apartment. I can already feel the weight of her disappointment. "You're so much like your father, Beatie…"

I pause at the words before looking up at her, my visor retracted so we can see each other's optics. I wait until she looks to me with a smile before I let my own slip through. We've always had this silent way of understanding, communicating with looks and gestures rather than fumbling with words. "I'll start going, Mom, I'll do better…"

"I know you will, baby, you're a smart boy. You're _stubborn_, but you're smart." She smiles as she gives me a wet smooch on the cheek, inciting a humored groan from me.

With a huff of air, I rest my helm on her shoulder, staring at the wall in thoughtful contemplation, "Mom… I wanna know what happened in Kaon…" I look up at her optics, a quiet plead in them, "I'm old enough now… I wanna know what happened to Prowl. He's been different ever since all of that ended… you told me you know why, and I've waited for you to tell me when you think it's right, but… I don't wanna wait anymore. I feel like I can't talk to him, like he's just angry all the time. I wanna understand why."

Mom's dim optics tell me the depth of the sorrow that's attached to whatever it is that occurred seven years ago in Kaon, when she and Prowl had come looking for me. I had noticed a change in the Praxian native when I was released from the hospital here in Iacon. He was different, there was something very quiet, deeply obscured, something that made him close himself off from the rest of us. I tried questioning my mother why he was acting that way, but she always told me 'when you're older, Beatie'.

I'm older now. And Prowl's only getting worse.

I tune my audio receptors in on my mother's voice as she begins quietly, "When we arrived in Kaon, Prowl took us to the local Enforcer Department, so we could touch base there and get some help in finding you… I was introduced to a femme named Roulette, somebot he knew." She takes a moment to sigh and gather herself before continuing, "Over the next few days, I noticed that the two of them became very close. I saw the same look in Prowl's optics that… I saw in your father's when he and I had first fallen for each other." A sad smile laces her words as she looks to me.

A femme. Prowl had a femme in Kaon. But what happened to her? Why would this lead him to become so… cold?

"She came with us to Kolkular, the Smelting Pool factory, where we knew you were being held. Things got so chaotic, it seemed like everybot was splitting off in every direction… By the time it was over, no bot could tell Prowl where she was." Her tone is quiet and stiff, holding in the emotions.

She died in the Smelting Pool overflow? Or… maybe something else happened to her? I hate to pick at the wound, but I have to know for sure, "Did they find her in the rubble?"

My mother shakes her helm, "No, they looked for solar cycles but never came up with anything… We don't know if she was killed or if she was taken, or what."

That's why he's so cold. Seven years ago, he fell in love with a femme, and she simply vanished. With no closure of what happened to her… he must be tortured. It would also explain why he watches me so closely, why he hardly gives me enough space to breathe. He doesn't want to lose anybot else.

It's not cold anger. It's cold fear.

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><p>A hiss of white mist plumes from a series of pumps circling around a large, mangled chassis, a single, eerily yellow optic onlining. Brawl turns his helm as much as he can as he hears the door to the medical infirmary in Tarn open, unable to see his visitor in the dark edges of the room. He already knows who it is, he doesn't even need a light to see his comrade's seething snarl.<p>

"I'm always amazed with how that slag-for-nothin' processor of yours somehow survives the wreckage. Every time. Primus must be proud of that ugly sculpt," Barricade says with a gruff tone, walking around the intricate set-up of medical equipment and bunches of thick cables that the larger mech is suspended amongst. The dumb thug's too big to fit into a CR chamber, not surprisingly.

Brawl growls quietly, mostly out of his own agony of the situation, "Primus? That fragger? 'Don't believe in 'im."

A sharp, cool chuckle leaves the smaller Gladiator, keen optics looking up to the other, "And now the kid's even managed to break your faith… you let him get to ya too deep, Brawl. I don't even have to ask you how this happened. The kid knows just how to get into your head, then the next thing ya know—_boom_, ya got no legs!" He emphasizes his point with a wide sweep of his arms, gesturing towards Brawl's missing limbs.

"Enough jokes, Barricade. I want that kid's throat." The mech's gaze is intensely set on the smaller bot's.

"Who's joking? I'm puttin' it up like it is, Brawl. You gotta be _smarter_ if you're gonna get this kid. Hf, on second thought, that's a long shot." He crosses his arms with a frown, thinking for a moment. "I guess this means _I'll_ have to tag along and be your brains, as usual."

"Y'know, you almost had me convinced that the reason you came wasn't to get in on this. That kid frags around in your processor off just as much as he does in mine," he replies with a low chuckle.

"So how many plugs do I have to pull to make that dumb processor of yours turn off?" Barricade retorts with a twitching frown, only bringing more chuckles from his comrade. "Listen, we only got a small window opening to do this. Starscream and his little fairy bots are gonna be goin' off-world for another run in the Shi-Lai territory in one cycle, meaning we won't have anybot to answer to for the next three."

"What about Soundwave?"

"He's busy with his espionage slag, he won't care what's going on in these Pit-forsaken mines Megatron damned us to. We'll put somebot else in charge to hold the fort for a night, get our afts to Iacon, and cut the kid's vocalizer in his sleep. Things escalated way too far the last time we got tangled with him, we can't let that happen again. We shut it down before it gets started up."

"How do we find him? We don't know where he lives…" the larger mech asks with a dumb look on his scraped faceplates.

"I know where to find him. Same place I found his _dad_."

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><p>The chill of the night air slowly seeps in through the cracks of our front door, alerting me of the hour. I remain lying on my side, pretending to be asleep on my berth as I finally hear my mother's even breathing from the other side of the apartment. Shifting, I take one of the small stones I obtained from the Tarn mining site, holding it up to peer at it as moonlight from the window shines through. It has an eerie tone to it, I've never seen energon this dark. It can't be anything good, this much I'm already sure of, especially if the Decepticons are so eagerly mining for it.<p>

Subspacing the stone, I sit up and glance over at Mom on her berth before I quietly stand and sneak to the front door, putting my hand over the rusty lock as I manually slide it open. There's a trick to opening a hydraulic-lined sliding door without making a sound, and I'm pretty confident I hold the title as the master. Just as I'm about to step outside, however, I'm jolted by a surprise.

"**Hey Night—"**

I quickly clamp my hand over the unexpected visitor's mouth before he can finish, clenching my teeth as I glance back at my mother, who only shifts on her berth. Looking to the set of large, red optics that are staring up at me, I can't help but release a huff of air, "Shhh."

The other bot complies, nodding before I slowly take my hand off of his mouth. As expected, the kid doesn't quite catch on, **"But—"**

Losing my patience, I again clamp my hand over the smaller mech's mouth and proceed to close the door behind myself, hopefully putting a barrier between my slumbering creator and the loud vocalizer I'm blocking. I give the kid a stern pout before grabbing onto his wrist, dragging him away from the apartment complex and to the street below. Finally, I release him and look to him, opening my mouth to give him a Prowl-esque talking to, but pause when I see the look of pitiful embarrassment on his face.

Deciding to switch gears, I choose a calmer tone, excusing him from his goof-up, "It's late, Siren, what're you doing here?"

Wow. I sound like a class-A jerk. This kid would follow me everywhere I go if I let him, and he hangs on every word I say like it's caked in gold. I've not seen him for at least two months, and this is how I decide to kick things off.

The meek bot intakes a vent of air, preparing to speak but stumbles a bit, his bright optics darting around nervously. A series of small sounds proceed to leave his vocalizer, some of which sort of resemble words. That's the problem with this kid's mouth, it's only got two settings: Obnoxiously loud from spending too many school vacations with his relatives in the Sonic Canyons, and too quiet as a result of his shyness.

"What?" I question him, tilting my helm a bit to try to get him to look me in the optics.

Raising his helm to meet my gaze, he gives a little smile, but his optics tell me he's afraid of getting shot down, "I said… I figured this might be the only time you'd actually be home… since you're always gone…"

There's that deep-set guilt in the pit of my tanks again. "Uh, yeah, I've been busy, Si. But listen, I'm gonna start coming back to the Academy, okay? So, uh…" I reach forward and pat him on the shoulder a bit awkwardly, "So I'll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?"

"Tomorrow's a free day, there's no school…" the younger bot replies, seeming to know I'm trying to give him the brush-off. I've got places to be tonight, and it's too dangerous for him to tag along like I know he wants to.

"Oh, really?" I try to sound pleasantly interested, "Well, alright, then maybe you and I can do somethin' tomorrow, okay? Listen, it's dark out, this is when all the creepers come out, so I want you to go back home now. Alright?" I'm taken by surprise as the pale blue mech suddenly steps forward and gives me a tight hug around the chest. I restrain myself from putting out a snarky comment that would make me feel better about the awkward embrace, but would likely crush the poor kid's spark.

"I'm glad you're coming back to the Academy, Beat. I miss hanging out with you." With that, the blushing bot turns away and trots off down the street, heading back to his own family's apartment.

Scrap. I've really let you down, kid. You can hardly look me in the optics now, like you're afraid I'll bite you. You almost act like I do with Prowl… There's no way I'm turning into a cold Praxian, Siren, I'll make it up to you. You're getting old enough, too, it's time we be open with one another.

But shutting you out is how I protect you… Maybe I have more in common with Prowl than I thought.

Turning and starting down an alleyway, I head for my destination. There's nothing like running through the roughest parts of Iacon at night, the air matching the coldness in your energon lines, nervous energy coursing through your circuits—the pure rush. I need to find out what these dark stones are and why the Cons are so captivated by them. I might find my answers through my liaison to Kaon's underground news circuit. The only place to find the grizzly Dinobot is in the lowest of subsurface clubs Iacon has to offer—conveniently located in Sector Capri.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers, it's good to see some familiar names from the first time around! I hope you'll all enjoy the ride, and your words mean so much to me. ^_^

Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>The night is silent as I go down a stairway leading from a back alley to a faded, green door. That's how Sector Capri is during the lunar cycle; it doesn't matter whether you're an honest, hard-working citizen or a low life heavy pulling a job. Every bot in this sector keeps quiet during the witching hours, as if there's something that floats thick in the air and warns of a massacre should it be disturbed. Call us a band of superstitious loons, but there's some truth to what the glowing spheres of Moonbase I and II do to a bot's neural wiring come twilight.<p>

I rap my knuckles against the rusting, green door at the bottom of the stairs, glancing around to keep aware of my surroundings before I look up as a looking slot is slid open, a set of red optics looking down at me joined by the pounding sounds of music and voices beyond the soundproofed entrance. I give a well-played smile to the mech behind the red optics, earning a growl from him. I've got something of a reputation with the chain of subsurface clubs and saloons that run throughout Sector Capri, bots know it's easier to just let me in through the door rather than have me sneak in through their air ducts. This way, they can at least _try_ to keep track of where I am in their establishment.

"Kid, ain't you s'posed ta be readin' ya _school books_ or somethin'?" the door guard questions, already opening the door for me.

"What's the point? I've written my _own_ books." I reply with a smug smirk, perhaps a bit too content with myself as I walk into the underground saloon. The mech at the door rolls his optics and mumbles something under his breath, closing the door behind me. Continuing further in, I'm met by the dank, gritty smells that sum up the majority of the deals and propositions being made by the bots inside—dirty. The cheap, yellow and green-tinted lights in the place are masked by the ever present, ever shifting plumes of smoke that are the result of illegal grade cy-gars that are swapped under the tables.

Before I can seek out my intel bot, I'm gestured over to the bar by an old mech that's a regular at my mom's pub. I'm in no rush, so I make my way through the tight crowd of drunks and gambling card tables to the bar, hopping up onto the open stool next to the old timer and giving him a light smile. Kids my age don't generally realize that the older a bot is, the more they know, but they'll never share a word of it unless you give them your attention; because at some point, the years take a bot's luster, and they'll quietly fade away into the background noise, their wealth of experience locked away in a living tomb. That's why I give this bot all the listening he wants, because even if I don't understand some of what he says now, all I have to do is chew on it for a while to crack open its meaning.

The old mech reaches a trembling, skinny hand over and holds onto my arm, something he always does when we chat; as if he's afraid I might get up and walk away before he's finished talking. I only smile in return and lean in as he does the same so we can hear one another over the constant roar of the rambunctious patrons around us.

"Those idealists these days, the ones with the loud voices and broad chests, they say that we as a whole planet and civilization are stuck in stasis, unmoving, trapped in an oppressive state of harmonic drones. But I say they're just spoutin' their idealisms, that they're puttin' it kindly. We ain't stuck in no stasis, kid, no."

I tilt my helm a little as I listen to him. I have to agree, the caste system of Cybertron has done more than hold bots back from accomplishing their full potential and chasing ambitions. A bot is born into their function, their decisions are made for them, and only a select, lucky few of the higher classes have options for something more. We're not allowed to grow or innovate.

The old mech points a boney, rusted finger up towards the ceiling and continues, "You ever look up into the night sky and see those dead bridges? It's just as bad down here as it is up there, kid. This planet and its inhabitants are in _decay._ We've already passed the time of stasis, and you know what happens when something sits still for too long. It begins to crumble until all that's left are the ruins and ashes. Dust to dust, kid, and we're in a bad way, soon to be less than nothing."

With that, the mech releases my arm and returns to his cube of highgrade. I remain on the stool for a moment, glancing absently at all the colored bottles of potent highgrade on the bar wall, contemplating the old timer's words. It's true. This planet is in a state of decay, and we're just letting it happen.

No, I won't include myself in the mix. _They_ are letting it happen. The rich and powerful, content with the way things are, pleased with keeping things comfortable for themselves, using their reigns to keep the rest of us in a vicious cycle of slog, rust, and repeat. This planet used to harbor something great, a race of inventors and creators, philosophers, scholars and bots of higher thinking who used to question and search for answers and new meanings. The _Golden Age_ of Cybertron, an era I wish I could have been born in.

Less than nothing, he said. What's to say we're not already there? In a world where nothing changes, where ambition and inquiry is oppressed and scraped under the floor boards, and where there's an entire civilization of bots who _do nothing_ about it… What is there that's worth keeping? What is there that's worth _fighting_ for? There's nothing here but war mongers and uncultured husks, digging at their scabs in a search for a fresh drop of energon, _life_; I might as well be surrounded by ghosts.

What's gonna happen to me and the rest of my generation? Will we turn into _them_ when we grow up? Mirage, Siren, my classmates, I see the kindling fires of potential in them all. Will it be smothered by the system we were born into? What can be done when we're not the ones in control?

Perhaps the greatest mystery that's ticking in my processor, but I can't sit still and ponder it any longer tonight, I've got to find out what these dark stones are. I leave the bar and the quiet old timer behind and start through the maze of crowded bar patrons.

It doesn't take a lot of searching to find the bot I'm looking for as my optics are drawn to the back of the main lounge to a broad set of grey shoulders met by a golden-plated back. Making a beeline for the mech's table, I'm brought to the conclusion that the bot must have a set of optics in the back of his helm as he beats me to the punch and greets me without looking back at me.

"You're like a bad case of cosmic rust, can't scrape you off no matter how hard I scratch." His voice is deep, his tone and demeanor mellow. It's always a 50-50 shot when talking to a drunk Dinobot. They're either compliant and willing to talk, or they're locked in 'Me Dinobot Smash' mode.

It's not like I was expecting a friendly greeting. Walking around the table, I take a seat across from the lumbering Dinobot and look up at him, offering a small smile.

The mech's red visor meets my orange one, staring at my smile for a moment before huffing, "Cute routine might've worked a few years ago, kid. Lost its charm the day you found you were tall enough to operate a crane."

I can't help it as a grin overtakes my smile, "Oh c'mon, Grimlock… you're still mad about that? You would've been ten fathoms deep if I hadn't plucked you outta that sinking scrap heap in the harbor."

The mech releases a gruff vent of air, "Still would've had my original left ped if you didn't."

"Just because I was tall enough to operate a crane didn't mean I knew _how _to…" I reply with a sheepish smirk. I perk and sit up straight as the mech shifts a little, giving away how anxious I am to ask him about my query. He catches on.

"Spill it," he puts simply. However, I assume he didn't mean it quite so literally as I follow suit and pull the dark stone samples out of my subspace compartment and drop them onto the table, as his visor gives a surprised flare. I get an uneasy feeling as Grimlock glances around the crowded saloon before putting his hand over the stones—hiding them. Turning his helm and looking to me, he asks in a lowered tone, "Where did you get these?"

I'm a bit taken aback by the normally mellow bot's reaction to the stones, my mouth hanging open in a dumb look for a moment before I snap out of it, "From a Decepticon mining site in Tarn… They've been stockpiling these things by the mega-tons, shipping them around in modified factory-grade energon cubes… You know what they are?"

"Yeah, they're bad luck." I'm about to open my mouth to protest as he gathers up the stones in his hand, but he cuts me off, "This one's too deep for you, kid. You need to leave this one alone, you'll end up floatin' face-down in a smelting pool, or at least what'd be left of ya."

"Grimlock, why are the Decepticons digging these things up? What are they?" I shift on my chair and stand on my knees, palms resting on the table as I lean in with anticipation, looking up at the massive mech. A childish action, I know, but I can't help it, knowing the mech's keeping a juicy puzzle piece from me.

Grimlock tries staring me down, but when he finds I'm too bent on finding out what he knows, he realizes it's useless to resist, all too aware of my persistent nature. Brandishing one of the stones between his chunky thumb and index finger, he looks to me with a serious gaze, "It's the fuel of their future. Stuff's unstable, toxic to a bot's systems if injected into the energon lines. Megatron thinks he can harness the stuff, make it work for 'im. I think he's a fraggin' fool, he'll get his bots killed before they can throw the first rock at Iacon." With that, he leans back in his seat, "Let it go, kid."

I nibble my bottom lip in a bad habit while I think over the revelation. Why would Megatron bother with this stuff if it's hopelessly toxic? I know he's a smart mech, there must be something else. My thoughts are drawn away, however, when I look back up at Grimlock and find him looking… antsy. Odd. There's something on his mind…

"What is it?" I ask him upfront. There's no need to try to be manipulative or tip toe around questions with this mech, he'll either tell you or he won't. There's no getting information out of him when he doesn't want to share.

Again, our visors meet, shielded optics locking. The mech's silence for another moment and subtle, uncomfortable shifting in his chair tells me he'd rather keep his mouth shut about what he's about to let out, "Capri Detective."

I freeze. My initial instinct is to yell something angry at the mech for saying the name. My dead father's nickname, bestowed onto him by the criminals and masterminds he brought down and chased. However, I keep quiet, waiting for the mech to make his point.

"The name's been passin' through the com channels, bots sayin' they've seen him."

I stare at the mech in suspended disbelief for a moment before frowning deeply, "I don't believe in ghosts manifesting in visible forms, Grimlock. _Where_ have these com channels been coming from?" I grit my teeth together as I speak with a tense jaw. No, don't ask questions about it, there's nothing there, nothing to look into. I know the truth of what happened to my dad. Megatron killed him, he got caught up in something the 'Cons were doing… He's dead, that's it, there's nothing else to know.

I'm sent into further suspense, however, when my question is answered, "Channels 'been coming from Shi-Lai territory, the Beta-Tri Quadrant. Decepticon Seeker channels."

Beta-Tri Quadrant? Shi-Lai territory? I can feel the disks in my processor whirr as I try to make sense of it. Decepticons, off-world? The space bridges aren't functional, though, how could they have gotten to such a distant quadrant of the galaxy? It isn't even in the Alpha Centuari system… Not to mention, going off-world is strictly forbidden to Cybertronians, as if the High Council believes we can preserve our "culture and people" by staying locked inside.

I can't ask too many questions at once, else Grimlock might feel cornered. I start with the basics, "Why are the Decepticons going into Shi-Lai territory?"

"Looking for something, doing deals with Shi-Lai for mutual benefits."

"Why such a far away quadrant? Why did the Decepticons choose the Beta-Tri?"

The mech shakes his helm, "Not sure, but dealing with the Shi-Lai is no good for any of us. Shi-Lai are ruled by the Blood Tyrant, they divide and conquer, overpower neighboring systems. Cybertron's far enough from Shi-Lai territory, but now Decepticons have their attention, and Shi-Lai knows Cybertron is going towards civil war. Shi-Lai won't need to divide once that happens, they'll just come and conquer." With that, he drops his fist on the table, making me nearly lose my balance. We hold optic contact for a long moment as it all sinks in.

Cybertron may be in danger now, thanks to the Decepticon Seekers somehow making it out into Shi-Lai territory… where they're looking for something… and for whatever reason, the Sector Capri Detective's name has been floating around… how does it all connect? What is Megatron up to?

Before I can finish my thoughts, the door to the underground saloon is suddenly busted open, and I feel my energon go cold in my lines when I hear an angry voice shout, "Iacon Enforcer Department, no bot move! This is a sting!"

Frag. I can't be here. The moment the cop finishes his last sentence, the saloon goes straight down into chaos; bots running in all directions and taking all the doors save the front, where Enforcers are rushing in to pacify the situation, stern faces alit by their charged tazer staffs. I have plenty of cover to mask my own exit, but not without my evidence sample. Luckily, Grimlock is busy looking over the crowd to the cops with a churning growl as I dart forward, slipping my smaller hand inside his to steal back the dark stones. By the time he's looking my way to protest, I'm already in a back lounge room climbing up into the air ducts.

* * *

><p>My processor throbs as I dart from one alley to the next, keeping close to the shadows as waves of Enforcers and fleeing thugs pass through the streets. Must be another one of Prowl's wide-scale sting operations, it looks like every club and bar that harbors the illegal narcotics deals is getting hit. I decide to take a break as I feel another sharp pang go through my neural circuitry, sitting on the doorstep of a warehouse's back entrance. Primus, I feel like I'm burning up, and I'm getting more nauseous by the klik. Maybe I inhaled too much of the smoke from the saloon earlier?<p>

That fraggin' Dinobot, the idiot probably doesn't know what he's talking about, he's just trying to screw with me! Maybe I should've taken his _head_ with that crane instead of his ped! Who the slag cares if Cybertron gets invaded by some intergalactic entity, it's not like there's anything worth _saving_ on this dead rock! I'll kill the next bot who mentions the Capri Detective's name! _Siren_ won't shut his mouth about him, keeps telling me I need to find out what happened—Siren…

Wait… what was that? Why do I feel so… angry? Something's not right, this is more than a bad case of smoke intake, something's… altering my state of mind, I can feel it, like there are two sides talking… So much rage, and against bots I give a scrap about—what is this? It's like something's suddenly snapped in my processor, like I almost lost it and went insane like—like the mine workers in Tarn.

Is it the stones? I've been holding onto them ever since I returned from Tarn, keeping them in my subspace compartment… is that why the miners were breaking out into random bouts of rage and tearing at each other? These stones, the do something to a bot's mind, even if they're not injected into the energon lines like Grimlock said…

I'm ripped from my thoughts as an Enforcer suddenly rounds the corner into the alleyway I'm in. Scrap, I've been seen! I don't even wait for the mech to call me out as I scramble onto my peds and begin running. Not now, I can't get into this kind of trouble now, Mom and Siren are depending on me to start going back to the Academy, Prowl will have my tailpipes if I get caught!

"You there! You're in violation of the curfew, stop!"

That's right, Iacon's set a _bedtime_ for its citizens, thinking it can outsmart criminals during their ruling hours of the night. It's done quite the opposite, really, and has only made the criminals realize how much more they can get away with if they take more care when sneaking around the city slums. I grind my teeth as I sprint down the alleyway, noticing how much… _stronger_ I feel. It's either adrenaline, or the stones. I'm starting to see what Megatron's going for, but it's a dangerous risk.

I ignore the Enforcer's shouted demands, quickly leaving him in my dust as I turn down an adjacent alleyway, thinking I'm home free. Fat chance. Just as I emerge from the alley, I'm startled by a second Enforcer waiting around the corner for me. I yell in protest as the officer seizes me by my arm—I can feel the anger coming back, it's overwhelming, I can't think straight!

"Kid, ya picked the worst time to do one of your night runs, Prowl's got this sector on lockdown, it ain't safe for a child t' be out!"

That voice, I know it—it's Jazz! I can't stop myself as I struggle violently against the mech's hold, and there's some horrible sound in the air—like a shredding plate of metal, what _is _that? Wait, it's me, screaming—Primus, it's like I'm possessed, I can't control myself!

"Nightbeat, kid—what's _wrong_ with you? Ah ain't gonna get you in trouble, just lemme take you home, calm down!" Try as he might, Jazz can't seem to keep a hold on me for long wherever he grabs as I thrash and cry out.

My vision begins to black out, and that's when I see something horrid. As if watching myself from outside my own chassis, I see my hand go down to my subspace compartment as I fight against the Enforcer—against a mech who helped bring me home seven years ago. My hand emerges from the compartment, and I feel my spark shoot up through my throat as I see the switchblade—what am I _doing! _I want this to stop, this can't be happening, it's gotta be a bad line of code, I must be asleep!

I'm left in terrifying suspense as my vision goes entirely, some kind of primal programming or virus taking over as I feel my chassis continue to move, the sounds and cold air around me piercing through my sensory receptors. I feel my spark skip a beat when I hear Jazz release a pained shout.

Primus save me… what did I just do?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Howdy ya'll, this week's chapter is a bit short, I've not had the luxury of time, but coming up next will be a longer one where the action begins.

SezWho, I always love reading your posts, I'm so happy every time I see one! It also helps letting me know where my readers are focusing their attention the most. X)

PingPongPanda, I remember seeing your name the first time around, it's so great to see you excited for this sequel! ^_^

Thank you to my reviewers! Please Read and Enjoy ^_^

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><p>Slowly, the nausea fades, but the feeling of numbing ice remains in my fingertips and along the back of my neck. Everything's gone dark, but I can feel the room around me spinning, while I remain perfectly balanced on the edge of something, paralyzed for fear of plummeting down into the unknown.<p>

Slowly, I realize I'm sleeping. There's a single nano-klik during which everything is fine, I'm just at home in my own berth, recovering from a nightmare. But then I begin to hear sounds around me that I'm not familiar with, sounds that don't belong in my home. I hear peds clicking across hard floors, voices with firm accents murmuring behind closed doors, the quiet whirrs of a data terminal in the same room as me. I then feel my spark jump into my throat when I suddenly hear the sound of a bot shifting, perhaps in a chair, and that's when I become aware of the feeling of being watched, having a set of cold optics trained on me.

I remain unable to move for a moment, struggling to pull myself free of this stasis-like sleep that I don't recall willfully entering.

"Nightbeat."

Again, I'm startled, but I know the voice. Finally, I manage to online my optics, and I find I'm lying on a hard couch. I swallow hard, wincing at the sharp dryness in my throat, lips stiff and cold. I'm met by the visage of authority and order, who's sitting behind a desk in the form of a young, wintry Praxian. I almost wish his optics would just bore a hole through my processor to get what's coming next over with.

However, the Praxian remains silent.

I shift my inexplicably sore chassis and sit up, blinking a few times, feeling like I'm in some kind of twilight zone; Prowl's never 'quiet', not when there's lecturing to be done. Then it hits me.

"Where's Jazz?" I question, my spark speeding up as the memories masked in rage begin to surface on my RAM components. The last thing I remember is losing my vision, blacking out, and pulling a knife on the mech in question—Prowl's closest friend.

"Jazz is in the Department Infirmary…" he begins. I feel my throat close up before he finishes, "…recovering from a laceration in his left hand."

I'm not sure whether or not to feel even the slightest morsel of relief. Jazz isn't critically wounded—but _I stabbed him._ What are they going to do with me now? Am I going to jail? No, I'm too young for jail… what, then? If I try to explain the truth, how I was somehow manipulated by those dark stones—but then I would have to explain _how_ I got the stones… this is all coming apart.

"Nightbeat, where did you get these stones?"

I'm nearly floored when Prowl beats me to the question before I can even come up with an answer that will cover my aft plate. I look up across the desk to the mech, a bit unsettled by his calm, observant demeanor, the door panels on his back giving faint flicks at the shifts in the room's air currents. That means he's _really_ mad. It's as if the entire office, the only light coming from the blue glow of the moons outside the window, is mimicking the icy tone of his optics, and it's all focused on me.

Are the lights off because he doesn't want to look at me right now?

I take a deep breath and look onto his desk, sitting up to see better, feeling my spark skip a beat when I see the aforementioned stones sitting in a neat pile. Does he know what they are?

Apparently I'm taking too long to answer the question as Prowl decides to re-word it, "Nightbeat, I've known you since you were a sparkling. You've had your problems, but I've never suspected you to be capable of an action like this. I don't know if there's something going on at home or—" he takes a moment to rub the bridge of his nose, diverting the subject back to the main point, "The Infirmary came back with results from a sample of energon we took from you."

"Don't you need my permission to do that?" I ask, frowning lightly.

I regret opening my mouth as I receive a heated gaze from the older mech across the desk, keeping it shut as he continues, "There were several levels of toxicity in your systems, Nightbeat." I watch as he picks up one of the stones and holds it up, "So I'm going to ask you again, Nightbeat. Where did you get these stones?"

I get it. He thinks they're some kind of neo drug. He thinks I was amped up and counting electric sheep when I lost it and pulled the knife. Well, it's not entirely false, but he's got some important facts out of whack. However, it could also be the only way of getting out of this ordeal without him finding out I'm on the Decepticons' case again. Only thing is, it'll crush my mother when she hears of it…

I raise my helm and look to Prowl, my visor shielding my lying optics, "I got 'em from a mech down on the corner by the Turbines Club. I dunno who he was, but he told me they were the new thing…"

"And?" I can see the shock in his optics, not expecting that I would so easily fall prey to a drug gimmick.

I know how to convince him, "And I was gonna find out more about it, find out who makes it, who the supplier to Sector Capri is… but first I had to get involved with the low-levels, the sellers." I keep my voice monotone to shield my deception.

The moment the Praxian's olfactory sensor crinkles in a look of frustration, I know I've got him hooked and lined. His voice takes on that higher, _pushing_ sound it gets when his patience is being tried, "So this is your way of infiltrating an illegal drug ring? Nightbeat, I thought I told you _thousands_ of times that you are _not_ to get yourself involved in these matters! You may think otherwise, but you are not a trained detective!"

Says you. Prick.

"And don't you give me that look—and look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

Sheesh, I wish he'd make up his mind.

"Nightbeat, you don't know what's _in _this drug, what were you thinking when you took it? How could you possibly think doing so would even help you in any case?"

I stir up another lie, "The dealer was standing right there, told me I had to take some in front of him to prove I wasn't a nark. It worked, so now I'm in through the first ring of trust." I wonder how far this lie is gonna end up taking me, or how many cops are gonna be out on the streets wasting their time, looking for this phantom dealer and drug ring.

"Enough, Nightbeat. That does it. You are out of control, do you hear me?" He leans forward a little with his optics focused onto mine, as if making sure I've not gone blind in the past five kliks.

Expecting another audio-full of his sharp tones and his thesaurus listings of 'disappointment', I'm surprised when instead, Prowl begins writing something on a datapad with sharp flicks of his wrist. Angry writing, never a good sign with him. He then reaches across the desk and pushes the datapad into my hands. It takes me a moment to realize what I'm looking at—and the moment I understand, Prowl decides to voice it out loud.

"Boarding school. It's the last thing we can do for you before putting you into the juvenile detention program." He folds his arms on his desk and leans on his elbows, like he knows he should get comfortable for the long argument that's bound to follow.

Boarding school, I'll be taken away from Iacon—from Mom. It won't be as easy to sneak out _their_ front door, either… But no bot's doing anything about the Decepticons, I have to find out what they're up to! Countless times I've tried laying it out for Prowl, Jazz, any bot who'll listen, but I'm always turned down. Always told I'm just a kid and I should be reading or 'playing' with Siren.

Before I open my mouth to start round one with Prowl, however, I pause when I see where this boarding school _is_. "Polyhex?"

"Yes, that's right. The school is renowned for its space technology program and observatory. I think it would be right up your alley, actually." He shifts a few items on his desk, busying himself to cope with not getting an immediate argument from me, his furrowed optic ridges telling of his quiet surprise.

Yes, Prowl. I would love to waste time building _space_ technology and _staring at the stars_ on a planet where every bot is forbidden from space travel. However, I have an asset in Polyhex, and it just might be my ticket out of this entire mess.

"You leave on the next train to Polyhex the day after tomorrow. I suggest you use your time wisely."

I can't help a small frown. So I have one day left in Iacon. That settles it, then… Grimlock said my father's title has been mentioned by Seekers traveling in the Beta-Tri Quadrant, Shi-Lai territory. I don't know how his name fits into all of this, but there's no more avoiding it.

I have to reopen my father's last case, the one that ended in his own death.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I hope ya'll are enjoying, it feels good to be writing again! X) Thank you to my reviewers and readers!

Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>The room seems to stand still as I stare at the box pulled out from beneath my berth. The thick layer of dust and faded color of the tin reminds me just how long it's been since I last touched it. Seven years. Seven years since I hid the last memento of my father and tucked it away, as if the action would push him out of my mind.<p>

The rest of the memories of that whirlwind experience come back to the forefront of my mind. Waking up in the High Tower Pavilions. Meeting Mirage and gaining his friendship. The Gladiator arena with those strange, organic monsters. The Emirate… And Megatron.

The Decepticon leader did his best to try to sway me into giving him what he wanted, only… to this day, I'm still not sure why he thought I would be able to do so.

"_Where is the transformation cog to Trypticon?"_

The rumble of his shouted words are as vivid as they were when they were thrown at my face seven years ago in Kaon. All that I've been able to learn about this "Trypticon" is that it's a dormant space station that used to be utilized to conduct some kind of science experiments. These days, it's about as useless as the space bridges; locked up and guarded, whatever lies inside never to be touched again, supposedly.

So what do I know? What's the connection between Megatron, me, and Trypticon station? It would seem that the answer is… my father. Megatron mentioned him, probably even put the hit out for him that landed his dead chassis in the Iacon Harbor. So the next question is: What did my father know about Trypticon station? It's obvious he knew too much, enough to get himself killed by the Decepticons… but is that all there is to it? If Megatron sought me out personally seven years ago, then my father must have known _more_ than Megatron did—the location of Trypticon's transformation cog.

Why would Megatron think I would know the answer, though?

It was when I came to this question that I remembered the keen interest Megatron and his spy, Soundwave, had taken in my toy ray gun—the last gift my father ever gave me before he was killed. Megatron had crushed it in his hand, looking for something. At the time, I had just thought he'd gone mad, but now it's starting to click. Certainly Megatron couldn't have expected to have found the t-cog itself hidden away in the toy… but what about something else?

Though the toy gun had been broken into irreparable pieces and shards, there was one piece that had somehow survived the dark mech's wrath—the red light bulb at the end of the muzzle. I had grabbed it when escaping from him, thinking I would only keep it for sentimental reasons. Now, however, I have a hunch that it's worth much more than just that. It could be the missing key to this entire web of deceit, killings, and chaos.

It could hold my father's final message to me, the final clue.

Slowly, I reach forward, faintly noticing that my hands are quivering as I carefully lift the dusty lid off the tin box that I had put away so long ago. I told myself I would never open this box again, that I would never look back on these memories, that it was a case that couldn't—or shouldn't be solved. Setting the lid aside, I feel my spark tighten up the moment I see the soft reflection of red light haloing the sphere resting inside the box. I carefully pinch it between my thumb and two fingers before lifting it up and holding it against the light. Just as I remember, I can see slight, delicate scratches on the inside; perhaps they're not just scratches. To think that I used to pelt thugs in the optics with this thing when it was a part of the toy ray gun, and now look how gingerly I handle it. As I recall, I even lost the toy in the harbor until miraculously finding it again in a channel outside the Tower Pavilions.

It's like Primus wouldn't let me say no to this case.

My thoughts are drawn back to the present when there's a knock at the front door. I hear a small voice speak out quietly from the other side as I stand and walk over to it.

"Nightbeat? It's Siren, you said we could hang out today…"

I offline my optics for a moment; how could I have forgotten? Well, kid, it looks like you'll be coming along this time.

"Yeah, I did," I reply as I open the door and give a warm smirk to the smaller bot, "So you ready to go? I gotta head to the Hall of Records, 'got a question for Orion."

An excited nod and smile from Siren tells me he's in.

* * *

><p>"I'm tired of this sneakin' around with my servo up my exhaust port, Barricade, I say we just find the kid's mom at that pub and snap her neck, <em>that'd<em> bring 'im to us."

Barricade narrows his electric yellow optics at the lumbering tank-former before growling out a response, "That _pub_ is five kliks away from the Iacon Enforcer Department, numb nodes. The entire sector is crawling with those red-badged piston grinders, and _Soundwave_ will get a whiff of what we're up to the nano-klik we're spotted and radioed in. We gotta get the kid when he's alone, get 'im cornered, and get the Pit out once we're finished. We come and go below the radar, get it?"

A gurgling vent of air leaves Brawl as he shifts uncomfortably on the empty crate he's sitting on in a scrap yard outside the Iacon border. He's fed up with all this waiting, all the anticipation. He wants the game to continue and finally come to its planned, climatic ending. "When's your _friend_ getting here, then? We've been waiting for him since the moon went down, and my afterburner is killin' me."

"Stop complaining, you sound like a nagging femme," Barricade sharply bites out, "He'll be here, it's not like he can just waltz out of the city on his own leisure."

Just as the smaller of the two Gladiators finishes, a third form silently steps into view, peds almost seeming to hover over the oily, dark muck on the ground. A smokey, calm voice leaves the newcomer, "Boys haven't been waitin' long, have you? I had to tell my _superior _at the Department that I was coming down with _rust intakes_ to get leave."

Barricade smirks as he uncrosses his arms and pushes off a large mound of scrap metal he'd been leaning on and walks over to the tall mech, "Hn, it's just your luck to get the Praxian _prick of the eon _as your CO." He looks over the other mech's chassis, observing the Enforcer paintjob and decals on his armor.

An easy chuckle leaves the mech, "Actually, I couldn't have gotten luckier unless I was put under the Prime himself. You wouldn't imagine what kinds of data logs I'm entitled to look through thanks to the Praxian's access codes. Not to mention, I found quite the file on the kid you're lookin' for, and you're gonna love what you're about to hear."

A sharp smile grows on Barricade's lips, "I can only imagine, Makeshift."

* * *

><p>Long, reaching shadows slowly seep across the floor of a decommissioned warehouse on the outskirts of the capital city of Terra-5; a usually obsolete planet in the Beta-Tri Quadrant. The shadows pause as sharp, crimson optics turn to glance around the interior.<p>

"Come out… Come out… wherever you are, _Detective_…" a serpentine tongue cackles out, "Wouldn't you care to hear about… _your son?_ Lord Megatron always used to _muse_ of how much alike the child was to you… only, I don't think he escaped death quite like you did… _Bound_ to happen, adding a sparkling to a Smelting Pool potage, but I wonder if he _understood_ that he was going to die. As bright as he was, most children rarely contemplate what it is to have their spark snuffed out…"

"I don't see the point in this, Starscream," the voice of a black and purple Seeker interrupts, "He's not in here!"

Starscream snaps his helm around and bites out a shrill command, "Silence, you fool! He _is_ here, I can _smell _him…" Returning his gaze to the dark walls and defunct machine-covered floors, he continues further inside.

A third Seeker donned in sky blue paint steps in, his long shadow joining those of the other two, "Perhaps your olfactory sensor is in need of an upgrade, Commander. I have to agree with Skywarp, there is nothing here."

"Be _quiet_ already! You sound as though you're _frightened_ by this mech, and I'll sooner have _charred_ Seekers under my authority than _petrified_ ones! Just keep looking!"

Just as Starscream begins to turn forward again after chewing out his subordinates, he releases a stunned shriek as a heavy pipe suspended on chains in the ceiling suddenly comes crashing down towards the trio.

"Get out of the way, idiots!" And with that, chaos erupts as the flyers scatter and fire at random into the warehouse's foreboding darkness.

"I knew it! He's a fraggin' ghost! Holy slag, let's get outta here!" Skywarp's frantic shouts mix with the clashing echoes of falling pipes and tumbling machinery in the once-still warehouse, only to earn further scorn from his Commander.

"We're not letting him do this to us again, he's no phantom! He can bleed just like any of us if we could just find him!"

Thundercracker's ever calm tone chimes in, though with an edge of urgency, "According to the number of our encounters with him versus the number of times we've actually _seen_ him—which would now stand at a ratio of 6:0—I estimate our chances of locating him this time highly improbable."

"Either you flick off your vocalizer component or I'll tear it out! Now follow—" the Air Commander is abruptly cut off in mid-bark as he's suddenly downed by a heavy crate, drawing an infuriated screech from him, "Get this thing off of me!"

"Commander, I highly advise retreating, this structure and its internal components are very unstable!"

Starscream growls viciously as his two winged comrades drag him out of the warehouse, but not before he raises his arms, Null Rays powering up before firing bright blasts of raw energy into the frenzied building, "Try some of this, Capri! You'll be a ghost soon enough!"

The warehouse rumbles in protest at the blasts, its construction far inferior to that of a Cybertronian-made structure, as large portions either topple off from the outside or implode within. A victorious cackle leaves the red and white Air Commander as he's pulled up onto his peds, watching the destruction, "A fitting tomb for a pain in the diodes!"

With the retreat of the Seeker Trine, the air around the partially collapsed warehouse grows still, the faint moonlight from one of the several orbiting satellites in the alien sky giving an eerie aura. After a few kliks of silence, a lone figure emerges from a still-standing doorway, an amused smirk curling his lip.

"That red one sure knows how to squawk…" Having close encounters with a bot like Starscream couldn't have made for better luck, the chances of him spreading the word that 'the Capri Detective is alive' and the news reaching Cybertron is almost a sure thing. The lone mech takes a small datacube out of subspace and onlines it, a laser-imprinted image of a young, mech sparkling with a broad smile and visor-shielded optics appearing, "I got your number, kid… now you just gotta follow the oil trail."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thank you to my readers and reviewers, your support keeps me going! SezWho, thank you so much for your awesome comments, it's so exciting to hear how you're enjoying the ride! :D

Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>I'm actually quite proud of Siren. From the moment we left my apartment to head towards the Hall of Records to speak to Orion Pax, he's been talking non-stop; but he's not said a word about the red sphere he saw me put in subspace. He knows good and well what it is, and what my having it means. Maybe the kid <em>is <em>tactful after all.

"Nightbeat? Are you gonna find out what really happened to your dad?" Those large, almost eerie red optics look up at me, framed by his pale blue face and helm.

Hope springs eternal, I guess. I try to keep my tone casual and aloof, "Something like that, Siren. I just want to know a few things about the gift he gave me before it happened."

The smaller mech is quiet for a moment, making me nervous that he might actually be _thinking_. What he blurts out next, even my process of logic has trouble connecting to his previous inquiry, "Are you and Mirage solving it together?"

It takes me a moment to fully process the question, it seems so random to the main point of our discussion, "Uh, I'm not sure if there's even anything to solve," a blatant lie, "But Mirage doesn't know about it… Why do you ask, Siren?"

I watch as his cheeks take on a warmer hue, and listen as he stumbles on his words a bit, "Oh, no—nothing, I mean, it's just that, you know, you and Mirage went through all that… stuff together, and one time you told me that there was something that happened in Kaon that… kind of connected the whole situation with your father somehow. I just thought, since he was there with you, he might've been your partner in this…"

Ah. So that's what this is about. Siren's got too kind a spark to be upfront about it, but I've always known that he's been a little jealous of my relationship with Mirage as close friends. More often than not, I've taken Mirage out on my little misadventures than I have him—but it's really just because Siren's younger than us. That, and I also have irrational fears that anything and everything could crush, sever, or shoot the pale blue bot. So, in some weird way, spending less time with the kid is my way of caring for him, I guess.

I let out a light vent of air, "Nah, Si, he doesn't even know I'm looking into this. You're the only one I've told." I reach over and pat the other on the shoulder before squeezing the back of his neck and lightly shaking him around in an affectionate manner, earning a quiet giggle from him. His silence, paired along with the beaming aura floating around his smile, lets me know that I've accomplished making him feel special.

He really is, too. Despite his generally loud antics and childish behaviors, I can already see that there's a sharp mind developing inside that growing processor of his. Sure, I have the feeling he doesn't quite yet know how to tap _into_ that keenness, but it tends to show through at the least expected times, so I know it's there.

Both of our heads turn skyward as we arrive at the Hall of Records, betraying our childish awe towards the massive structure. It never gets old, coming here, observing the shining bronze and statue-inlaid façade of the grand building. We breeze through the lobby, well-known around here by the receptionists and staff, and head down the rows of terminal stations where data clerks of all shapes and sizes are dutifully at work.

We make a beeline towards a work station that has a clerk that looks a bit too large for his occupation, and already I'm smiling as we approach. I've always liked Orion, he's a calm, good-natured mech with a brilliant mind; a mind that's going to waste in an occupation like data clerking, in my opinion. It just goes to show how crushing Cybertron's forced caste system is. Before either of us can say a word, the tall clerk knows we're at his desk without even looking back at us.

"Finally using the front door, I see. Alpha Trion's lectures of climbing through the ventilation ducts finally proved successful, it would seem." The mech's deep voice rumbles with a warm tone as he speaks, turning his helm to smile down at us calmly.

I can't help but grin broadly at the towering mech, there's just something about him that captivates the attention of anybot listening to him. I can feel Siren's equally alit grin off to my side, and release a small chuckle, "Well, when he offered to let us come and go as we pleased if we used it, that was motivation enough." Just like all the clubs and bars of Sector Capri, the head archivist of the Hall also caved in to my constant infiltration and split a deal that gave me free passage in; so long as it's through the front entrance.

A rolling chuckle leaves Orion, "Ever the ambitious one. What can I do for you, Nightbeat and Siren?" A smirk grows on his lip as the later mentioned bot grins bashfully in hearing his name spoken by him.

Time to get down to business. I reach into my subspace compartment and brandish the red sphere, holding it up to Orion, "I was wondering if you could tell me about this. Maybe what it's made of, where it came from, what it is…"

Handing it to the older bot, my detective senses tingle when already I see a look of surprise growing on the other's faceplates. Carefully, Orion pinches it between his large digits and observes it closely, taking note of the fine scratches on the _inside_ of the sphere. There's a tense moment of silence as he inspects it, both me and Siren leaning in on the tips of our peds. Finally, those seven little words that make my audios sing leave the data clerk, "I have seen these in the archives."

Then it's more than the optic perceives at first glance, not just a simple piece of a toy. My optics brighten intently as Orion continues, "It is made of a rare ore not found here on Cybertron, rather, from a quadrant where we developed colonies during the spacebridge era."

My spark skips a beat. A different quadrant of the galaxy? How did my father ever get a hold of it?

I have to question Orion's knowledge, despite my being aware of his intelligence, "How can you be so sure what it's made of? It looks like it could just be red glass…" Strong red glass, at that, I suppose.

The patient mech looks to me, "Because it was the only material used to develop this kind of technology." He holds the sphere up a little to demonstrate his point.

I blink my optical sensors, as if to try to process what I heard, "What kind of technology?"

"This sphere, in a simple sense, is a map. We inherited this compact form of mapping from the native species that resided in the quadrant of its origin. Alone, however, it is merely an object of decoration. One would require a special tool that was used to read and display the data that is etched within it. This technology was long ago abandoned by Cybertronians, as we have since progressed to higher levels of technology."

I'm… stunned. It's a map? My father left me some kind of map... Suddenly, it begins to make sense.

What if it's a map to Trypticon's transformation cog?

I'm brought out of my startling thoughts when I realize Orion is giving me a curious look, his voice lowering to a more hushed tone, "This is quite a relic, Nightbeat. I've only seen a small handful of them—all of which were in museums. How did you come by this?"

Scrap. He might be thinking I stole it. My sense of paranoia begins to sink in—should I tell him where it came from? Somebot somewhere—like Prowl—could start putting the pieces together, following my investigation trail, learn what I'm planning before I even do it. I swallow lightly, "It was a gift, I've had it almost my whole life…" Quickly, I change the subject, "You said it was from another quadrant, which one?"

The answer I'm given puts yet another piece in the puzzle, "The Beta-Tri Quadrant, one that is currently under Shi-Lai reign."

Beta-Tri Quadrant—the very same quadrant that the Capri Detective's name has been floating around in, and the same where Decepticon Seekers are voyaging out in search of something. Now I have a pretty fraggin' good hunch what that 'something' is; the t-cog. I test my luck and ask one final question, "The tool that's needed to make one of these things work—what's it look like?"

"It is much like a telescope, in both form and function. When a map-orb like this is set into place, looking through the instrument's viewing scope allows the viewer to see a projection of the map in the form of a grid-like pattern across whatever surface the scope is pointed towards. I have never seen one in person, it is likely that they have become a rare commodity, if even that."

Maybe on Cybertron, but I'd put money down that there are plenty to be found in the Beta-Tri Quadrant. I give a nice smile to distract Orion as I slyly pluck my sphere out of his hold, and speak before he can protest, "Thank you, Orion, you've always got the answers I need."

"Nightbeat…" the mech's optic ridges furrow in a look of concern, "… Do be careful."

I take a moment to look up at the other bot. That's another thing about Orion Pax. Sometimes, you can never tell just how much he knows, his cryptic words both wise and confusing. He's been working for Alpha Trion for too long, that's what it is. I nod to him, "Thank you, Orion."

With that, I turn and take Siren's arm, tugging him along as we quickly trot out of the Hall to the streets outside. This is big news, my processor is still reeling from what I've learned. It's too much of a coincidence to brush aside. There's something in the Beta-Tri Quadrant, something that my father left behind for me to find; and the Decepticons are already on the trail, likely far ahead of me.

"Nightbeat, did your dad travel off-world? I thought the space bridges didn't work… how did he go so far out? Or even get off the planet?"

A good question, Siren. I glance to my companion as my mind continues to work. Not only are the spacebridges inoperable, but the ownership of space-worthy vessels has long been illegal for civilians, even Enforcers. However, it wouldn't surprise me if my father had connections similar to my own in Polyhex, a city where space is still considered the forefront of discovery by its ever growing population of scientists.

* * *

><p>My optics scan up the tall, golden structures that are the High Towers, a place that's been a second home to me for the past seven years. I step forward into an elevator after entering a code that Mirage gave me, along with an open invitation to stop by whenever I had the time. I dropped Siren off at his home about an hour ago, telling him I needed to turn in early so I would get plenty of rest before my journey to Polyhex in the morning. Why did I lie to him? It seems like I lie to him quite a bit, and it's something that needs to stop. He's getting to be the right age, I have to stop seeing him as the tiny, defenseless sparkling he used to be.<p>

I promised that I would let him into my world, as my partner, as my _equal_. That promise was given a long time ago, but I wouldn't bet against him remembering it just as well as I do. The way he's been pushing himself into my daily schedule is his way of politely letting me know he's tired of waiting for me to let him in.

I turn away from my musings as the elevator door chimes as it opens, directing my optics to the long, curved hallway awaiting me. Stepping out of the elevator, I turn my helm to be met by the smiling face of my long-time friend as he comes down the hall towards me.

"Nightbeat, it's great to see you!" Mirage's voice is at that point where it's trying to decide if it belongs to a young child or a developing teenager, varying in decibels and sometimes cracking. When it remains at a low tone, it's almost at a level that can compete with his father's. When it cracks, however, it's more similar to his mother's. It's something I devotedly tease him for on a regular basis.

I return the warm smile and accept a tight hug from him, "I heard you made it into the Iacon Junior Racing Preliminaries, Raj, congrats. You'll be bringing home the gold without a doubt." I grin at him as he releases a modest laugh at that.

"Oh, that's so kind of you, Nightbeat, always mistaking me for some kind of super hero," he retorts with a bashful roll of his optics, "The 'gold' in this case is a scholarship to that academy I was telling you about, the one in Vos."

I give a huff and raise an optic ridge at him, "I still don't get why you wanna go to a city filled with _flyers_, those types are snobbier than _you_ are." My broad grin lets him know I'm nudging at him humorously, and he gives a light-hearted, indignant huff in return.

"I think you're just jealous, because you know I'll be surrounded by gorgeous Vosian femmes, and what femme doesn't love a racer? I'll be at the top of the food chain in no time, king of the jungle." He chuckles and gives my shoulder a push.

I roll my optics and laugh, "Yeah, cuz Vos is comparable to a jungle with all the gold-plated roads and transport units that do the driving for you."

"Oh, it's not real gold, but they _do_ an excellent job of keeping it polished, don't they?" His smarmy smirk tempts me to tackle him over.

I chuckle and shake my helm, wondering how this normally shy, modest-natured mech ever got such a mouth on him. Oh yeah, I taught him how to have one. I follow him when he invites me into his family's quarters, glancing around the familiar social room, the walls decorated with rich paintings and bust statues. We wordlessly agree on going to our favorite place to chat, out in the courtyard with the fountain where we first met as younglings. Sitting on the edge of said fountain, I look over to him.

I've already told him about my situation with Prowl's final straw and my condemnation to Polyhex, but now he needs to hear what I'm planning, "Raj, I leave for Polyhex tomorrow. I'm not gonna be in that boarding school, though."

Mirage blinks and looks to me, his quiet expression telling me he knows what I'm going to ask him.

"I'm taking the Veilleur, and I'm gettin' outta dodge. We always promised we'd do it together, so I need to know if you're in or not." I chew on my lip, knowing that this is sudden, that I'm not giving him that fair of a warning. I decide it's only right that I let him in on more right away so he understands the situation, "I've found out what the Decepticons are up to, they've been going off-world, and I know it's involved with my father and that thing Megatron asked me for…" At this point in our friendship, Mirage knows how to quickly process and sort through my seemingly random, bunched up data-dumps of information. "I have to find out how it all fits together—my father, Megatron, the Trypticon deal, everything that happened… and that means leaving Cybertron."

Mirage's optics dim a bit as he thinks it over, a clear look of uncertainty on his face. "Nightbeat… You know that I want to go with you. More than anything, it's what I've been waiting for, what we've been working for with the Veilleur in Polyhex… it's just that… things have been improving with my parents, we've been spending more time together, and… they're so proud that I've gotten into the racing preliminaries…"

I sigh lightly and nod, reaching over and putting my hand on his back supportively, "I understand, Raj. And don't worry… it's not like this is the only chance we're gonna get." I smirk at him, earning one in return.

"You're still going to go, though, aren't you…" Mirage gives a worried huff of air.

"I have to. I might finally know the truth about my father, and what he was doing that got him killed by Megatron and his crew."

The Towers bot stares at me for a quiet moment before he grabs me into a tight embrace, "Promise you'll be careful, don't… don't do anything you would normally do." He smirks at me, though his optics are slowly glazing over with a thin coat of liquid.

I return the embrace and give him a good pat on the back to reassure him, smirking, "Hey, this is me we're talkin' about. I know my way around and through trouble like no other bot you know. So long as I keep a low profile, how much could I actually run into?"

Mirage gives me an exhausted pout, "You and your famous last words. I could fill a book with them and title it 'How to Jinx Yourself'."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Time for the action to begin! And if anyone is wondering about where Hosehead is (if anyone even knows who he is to begin with, he's beyond obscure in the TF realm XD; ), he'll be coming around later, I've got a wild introduction in store for him.

Comments and questions are most appreciated!

SEZwho: I'm glad you liked how Orion was portrayed, he's always a fun character to tackle. *directs Orion to hug you* And don't worry about Siren, he's plenty loud enough to have his say when I'm writing. XD

My wonderful readers, Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>A cool morning breeze lazily drifts through the quiet room of our apartment, but its chilled bite doesn't reach me through the warm embrace I'm encased in. For what could be the tenth time this morning, my mother releases a heavy sigh, her arms tightening around me before they slowly ease apart. I retract my visor to expose my optics as I turn my helm to look up to her, keeping my features steeled so she knows I'm not afraid.<p>

We've had our talk, about me staying out of trouble, attending my classes, calling her every day. Now this silence has fallen over us, and the things with real meaning are being passed between our gazes. This is the first time in a long while that my mother is going to be in this apartment by herself for an extended period. Sure, I've traveled far and wide across this planet, not always willfully; but for the past seven years, it's only ever been for short stays away from home. It's really starting to hit me, just how hard my actions are affecting her.

My optics dim as she cups my cheeks. Primus, those sad, blue optics she has; they look like they could spill out an ocean, and it's all focused around me. Sometimes I get too caught up in my own business to remember just how much she loves me, how well she understands me. Too often, I forget to tell her what she means to me. I really am like my father.

Our moment is brought back to cold reality as a stiff knock sounds at the door, Mom's optics flashing and looking over to it. She takes in a deep breath and kisses my cheek before going to answer it. I don't need to see who it is, I already know. I feel something cold sink in my tanks.

"Good morning, Minerva," the even voice of the Praxian at the door speaks, "Is Nightbeat ready to go? The train leaves shortly."

My mother tries to smile and nods, "Yes, he's all packed up." I refuse to look over at the two as she turns her optics my way, "Time to go, Beatie…"

My tanks cringe at the dismal tone in her voice. Why do I do this to her. Why did _Dad_ do the same; is it in our CNA? I nod and lift my small pack of belongings before going to the door, looking up at my mother and Prowl, "Okay."

The walk to the Iacon speed rail station is a quiet one, my mother's hand brushing over my shoulders and back every so often, while Prowl keeps his gaze fixed forward. I chance a glance up at the tall Praxian, a bit surprised that I'm not getting an audio-full of how _good_ for me this boarding school is going to be, or how I'll make _friends_. I keep my golden-orange visor focused on him as we walk along, knowing he can feel my gaze, but he refuses to meet it. Good Primus. Is he actually going to _miss _me?

I guess I _have_ been his biggest hobby ever since the first day we crossed paths. Maybe he could start taking yoga with all the free time he's gonna have. It'd probably help him ease that stiff rod that I'm convinced he has impaled in his afterburner.

A short vent of air hissing from the Praxian's intakes alerts me that we've reached the speed rail station, the railway platforms sparsely dotted with bots awaiting the early-morning train to Polyhex, only a few of them young teenagers like me. I'm almost tempted to humor the thought that they were all doomed to the school by Prowl's hand just as I was, but I'm distracted from it as I'm pulled into another hug by my mother. I ignore Prowl's presence as I return it, squeezing my optics shut as I savor and memorize the feel of it, knowing I won't be having another for some time. She releases me with another sigh, rubbing my cheeks with her thumbs before she straightens her posture.

"I have to go to work now… The first quarter term will be over before you know it, and you can come stay with me during your break, okay? I love you, Beatie."

"I love you, too, Mom." I feel my throat begin to tighten up as she gives me a final, blue gaze before turning and walking across the platform to the street. Looking forward again, I finally feel Prowl's optics on me, just when I don't want them to be.

He holds his silence a short while longer before sighing as he kneels and gently holds my arm, turning me to face him. He still treats me like I'm a sparkling, on his knee as if I can't handle having to look up at him during a conversation, holding onto me like I'll stubbornly turn away. Or… maybe I'm being pessimistic. Maybe he just… _wants_ to hold onto me. After all, he's looked after me like an older brother ever since my father died. Sure, we've had our differences, and we've drifted somewhat apart recently.

Maybe he's trying to reconnect before he loses his chance to. Or maybe this is all just wishful thinking on my part. I'd like to think not.

The mere look in the Praxian's icy toned optics sheds some hope that the aforementioned may be the case as he speaks, "Nightbeat, a lot of things have been changing recently. A lot of things are going to change even more now. There's one thing, though, that has remained the same, and always will." He rests his hands on my shoulders, and I can feel his optics pierce my visor, "I am very proud of you."

My lips silently part open at the short, simple words. He continues on, "I feel that somehow, I've not lived up to the promise that I made to you when we first met, that maybe I grew distracted by my own plans and forgot to make sure you were alongside with me. There is a lot that I've not told you, and perhaps you've felt that I was intentionally shutting you out."

I swallow a hard lump in my throat as he speaks. Up until Mom explained what happened between Prowl and that Roulette femme, I really had thought that I'd done some terrible thing to deserve his cold shoulder. Suddenly, a clear conclusion is brought to the forefront of my processor; this must be how Siren's felt all these years. I've done to him exactly what Prowl did to me; I shut him out, put him aside for my own reasons. I betrayed the promise that I made to him.

The hard edge in Prowl's optics soften as he watches me, knowing that my mind is mulling over his words and taking them deeply. His helm turns to look down the tracks as the train arrives beyond the bend in the track, and he knows his time is short. Squeezing my shoulders lightly, he returns his gaze to my visor, taking back my attention, "Nightbeat, I'm going to make it up to you."

Meeting his optics, I nod in reply, "Same to you, Prowl…" I blush lightly as my voice cracks a bit, betraying the emotions behind my quiet demeanor. In the next instant, I'm left stunned as the cold hands on my shoulders shift and bring me into an unexpected embrace.

"We'll all be waiting for you here, Nightbeat, make sure that you come back to us." With that, he ends the brief hug and stands to his full height.

I glance to the awaiting train before looking up at my Praxian brother, giving him a parting nod, "I will." Boarding the train, I keep my helm lowered to avoid attracting attention from the other passengers as I move to the back of the coach-class section, finding a seat by a window. Looking out, I feel my optics begin to sting as they rest on Prowl, who decides against waving and instead returns my nod.

Leaning back in my seat, I take in a deep vent of air, the nerves of my uncertain future seizing my gears. It doesn't take me long to force myself into an uncomfortable, light stage of recharge, the sounds of the train's pumping engines and propulsion boosters fading into a numbing, white noise.

I'm glad that I told Mirage not to see me off at the station. Chances are, Prowl would've kept his words to himself if he hadn't had me alone. Plus, there's the _slightest_, most _miniscule_ possibility that I _may_ have squirted a few drops of coolant from my optics, had my Towers friend been there. Maybe. Probably not. But possibly.

* * *

><p>"There's your train, boys." Makeshift rests his sharp hands on his hips as he and two similarly dark mechs stand atop a hill of ruins just beyond Iacon's outer limits, watching as said train peeks at the far end of the tracks, "I hope you'll take my advice and make it look like an accident, I don't need Megatron's attention being drawn my way."<p>

Brawl is nearly salivating as the train's distant engines echo through the desolate wastelands beyond the city border, "That's right, kid, go ahead and enjoy your train ride, it'll be the last bit a' fun you ever have…"

Barricade crosses his arms, electric yellow optics sharp as they watch his prey grow closer, "Trains derail every day, Makeshift. Blame the rusting speed rails."

The shape-shifting spy smirks sharply at the differing demeanors of the two partners. Turning, he averts from his true form into his Iacon Enforcer disguise, glancing over his shoulder a bit, "Don't forget, Barricade. When the North cities begin to fall, you make sure to remember the favor you owe your ol' pal Makeshift. Same goes for you, Brawl, as I've got the feeling most of this is for you."

Neither of the addressed mechs acknowledges or turns their helm to watch Makeshift as the mech transforms and leaves for the city. Rather, their equally sinister stares remain affixed to the speeding train.

Barricade's low, growling vocalizer punctures the silence as he transforms, "Let's move, we wouldn't wanna miss the show."

* * *

><p>A soft voice brings me out of my miserable recharge, and it takes me a moment to realize the voice is being directed towards me, "Mh—what?" I yawn and rub my optics as I try to drag myself out of the groggy haze of sleep.<p>

"Is this seat taken?"

"Naw, go ahead…" Stretching, I sit up straight and situate myself to make room for the bot to sit beside me.

Wait a klik. That voice…

Turning my helm to look at the newcomer, my visor flares in shock as I'm met by the visage of— "_**Siren?**_"

The pale blue mech doesn't even look at me as he calmly sits down beside me, red optics directed downwards towards his hand as they primly rest on his lap. I'm left staring at him with a dumb look of shock until he finally looks my way, his tiny voice replying, "Hi."

I must be asleep still. "Siren, what're you doing here? This train is—"

"Headed to Polyhex, I know." He once more directs his attention towards his folded hands, his voice betraying his nervousness, though he does a good job at keeping it calm and even, "I'm also headed to the boarding school there. I got a transfer…" I can tell he's iffy about how I'm gonna react as he hesitantly steals a glance at me. I only stare at him, stupefied.

He got a transfer to the boarding school? He sacrificed his scholarship to the Enforcer Academy—_why?_ This is bad, this changes everything! I'm not even planning on walking through the front door of the boarding school, I've got other plans—or _had_ other plans… Scrap, kid.

What he says next leaves me further in bafflement, "So now you're stuck with me. What're ya gonna do about it?" He attempts to give me a stern look, but it turns out to be a huffy pout with angry puppy optics. Now isn't the time to laugh at him, though.

Taking a moment to blink and process the sudden, snappy comment, I figure how I'm supposed to respond. I release a huff of air through my vents, "Well…" Pausing, I recall what Prowl said to me at the station, and I realize that Siren deserves to hear the exact same words from me. I let out a second sigh before nodding to the smaller bot, "Okay, then. I'm stuck with ya. But listen, Siren," I lean in a bit so our words are private, "If I ever tell you to run, then do it. Don't ever question me, just do it. Ya understand?"

Siren's haunting red optics look up to reflect from my visor, understanding the solemn tone in my voice. I know what he's thinking, recalling our run-in with the Kaon thugs back in the Sector Capri factory seven years ago, and all that time after I disappeared spent thinking if it could have been different had he not disobeyed me. He nods to me, "Yeah, I understand."

Sensing that we're both about to pop an energon line with the tension in the air, I huff and give the kid a smirk, much to his surprise. I reach over and put my hand on his shoulder, "We've got a lotta work ahead of us, partner."

It doesn't take him a nano-klik to reply with an excited smile and nod, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I chuckle and give his helm a light muss.

The moment is suddenly cut short, however, as several popping sounds fill the air of the train. Gunshots? I quickly push Siren's helm down and crouch, peeking around the seat in front of us before releasing an unintentional yelp as the train suddenly goes—_up_. I instinctively grab onto one of the poles in the walkway isle of the passenger car, my other hand latching tightly onto Siren's back armor. His terrified screams are overlapped by the shrieks of metal on metal, sparks and smoke filling the train until suddenly… it all stops.

I online my optics, realizing that I had them clenched shut, and find myself stuck in a moment of chaos and fear, time slowing down around me. Glancing to one of the windows, I see nothing but sky. I'm pretty sure this _isn't _an astro-train I'm riding, which only leaves one highly likely explanation—a bomb.

Time decides to take me back as everything around me speeds up, the screams of the other passengers ringing in my audios as it feels as though the train is beginning to descend, bots and objects flying around the car as if we've entered space. I use a strength I didn't know I had as I wrench Siren close and hold him against my chest, shoving him between myself and the ground, tucking my helm in to create the best barrier over him that I can. Onlining my optics, my vision is filled with the haunting light of his crimson optics, until darkness takes over with a sudden crash.

* * *

><p>"We'll have to remember to send Makeshift a 'wish you were here' card." Barricade allows himself a sharp grin and cackle as he and his towering partner stand atop a hill in the desert region between Iacon and Polyhex, optics gleaming with delight as the fires of the train wreck dance across them.<p>

"We're not just leavin', right? We gotta make sure the bomb got 'im, make sure that he's really _dead_ this time." Brawl impatiently grinds his treaded peds into the dirt, itchy as the flames of the destruction tempt him.

Barricade rolls his optics and shakes his helm, "If the bomb didn't get him, then the crash did," glancing to his partner, he raises an optic ridge as he receives a hot glare, "But yeah, we're gonna go find the dead chassis so you can pin it over your berth and sleep better at night."

Brawl growls lightly before transforming with his comrade, the two speeding towards the deathly silent remains of the train.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Here's a longer chapter for ya'll, hope you're all enjoying! Good luck to anyone who has school finals coming up!

Little side note- "Veilleur" means "Watcher", it's also Nightbeat's French-dubbed name. X)

Please Enjoy and Review!

* * *

><p>The soothing sound of waves rising and falling along the shore keep me lulled in a warm, numb place, my fuzzy vision fading in and out with the tide. I've never been particularly fond of the beach, maybe it's got something to do with my disdain for the ocean in general. Most bots think the ocean is a vacation spot. I tend to see it as a place where good and bad bots alike are sent to "swim with the electric fishes".<p>

Wait a klik. I'm not at the ocean, I'm not even outside… or at least, last time I checked I wasn't outside. I was on a train… going to Polyhex, with Siren—

_Siren!_

My intakes pump air into my systems faster as I try to force my optics into focus, everything around me a blur of globed up colors, and suddenly I'm hit by the sickening smell of charred metal and energon fumes. I remember now, the train—we were hit by something, it sent us skyward before there was a hard crash. What caused it?

Decepticons. It must've been a Decepticon terrorist attack, that's how they communicate, through inciting fear and chaos. This doesn't feel right, though, there weren't very many bots on the train, surely the Decepticons would've aimed for a higher body count than this…

Everything abruptly becomes all too clear as I manage to fully online my optics, and I feel as though my entire chassis has cringed tightly inwards. The moment my vision is clear, I find myself lying on what once acted as the ceiling of the passenger boxcar of the train, and outside one of the mangled, shattered windows, I can make out a very familiar form trudging through the wreckage outside.

Primus… this is a lot more personal than a randomized terrorist act. This is Brawl.

Holding my breath to assure that I don't release any unintentional sounds, I slowly lift my helm and push myself up onto my hands and knees, never letting the towering mech only a few paces away from the boxcar out of my sight. He must not have known where I was in the train when it went up, his attention narrowed on another passenger car that looks a lot worse than the one I'm in. I jolt as he tears a thick plate of mangled metal off the other car, feeling my tanks churn as he carelessly pushes aside a few offlined chassis that topple out.

I have to pull my attention away from him to find Siren, as the blue mech isn't in my arms as I last recall having him. It doesn't take me long to find him as I look ahead and see his pale frame limply lying nearby, and I feel my spark burn at his stillness. Doing my best to keep quiet, I crawl across the dented metal ceiling of the overturned boxcar until I reach my partner, my hand reaching out and touching his shoulder. Giving him a light shake, my optics flare as he suddenly releases a startled gasp, and I clamp my hand over his mouth, optics turning to look in the direction of Brawl.

Thankfully, the lumbering 'Con was in the process of stomping out the siding of another train section, masking Siren's sound. I release a momentarily relieved huff of air before looking down into Siren's scared optics of scarlet. Slowly, I remove my hand from his mouth, putting my index finger over my own to gesture him to remain silent. After he nods in understanding, I carefully help him sit up, my hands lightly traveling over his frame to check him for any severe wounds.

This kid is just as weird as I am; he can get fraggin' blown up and walk out with only a few cuts and dents. Good.

I keep my voice to a low whisper as I speak to him, "You alright?"

A little nod accompanied by glazed optics and a light sniff answers my question; he's scared as Pit, but he's okay. Looking around the wrecked boxcar, it would seem that Siren and I are the only two that made it… those sick slaggers. They'll pay for this. Taking Siren's shoulder, I turn and begin slowly crawling towards a busted out window on the side of the car facing away from Brawl. Surely we're out in the middle of nowhere between Iacon and Polyhex, and it's gonna be tricky getting away from the wreck without Brawl noticing us. Hopefully he'll remain occupied with digging through the scrapheap looking for our remains and won't think to look up.

"Be careful of the glass, Si…" I carefully balance my hands over sheets of shattered glass as I begin to make my way out the open window until a loud scream rings through my audios, "Siren—"

"**Nightbeat!"** The younger mech kicks his peds as he's seized by his back armor and lifted up through a hole on the topside of the boxcar, turning my tanks cold.

Reacting on instinct, I release a distressed curse and grab onto my friend's legs, trying to pull him back down before I'm pulled up to outside surface of the car as well. We both grunt as we're dropped onto the topside of the overturned boxcar, optics turning up to look to our captor, "B-Barricade!"

Said Gladiator smirks sharply as his optics narrow in on his prey, "You remembered my name, kid. I guess I must've left quite an impression on ya." With that, he reaches down to again seize us before all three of us are suddenly sent flying as a tank shell smacks into the side of the boxcar. We're granted a somewhat soft landing as we splash into the thick, oil and energon soaked mud on the other side of the derailed train, and already I can hear Barricade's furious growls filling the air.

Not taking the time to figure out _where_ those throaty sounds are coming from, I take Siren by the arm and pull him up out of the muck, rushing him into another boxcar to take shelter from the Kaonian killers.

"Have you blown a _fuse_? You nearly just blew my fraggin' diodes off!" Barricade angrily spits at his partner, "I had them!"

"He's sneaky, you were giving him too much time to think! Ya gotta kill 'im fast!" Brawl's already transforming and charging towards the part of the train that we've retreated to, ignoring his partner's condition and slamming his heavy shoulder into the side of the boxcar.

Siren releases a startled yelp as the car is nearly turned onto its side by the brutal strike, "Nightbeat, what're we gonna do? They're gonna kill us! There's no bot around for miles!"

"I'm thinking, Siren, just—just lemme think, and follow me!" My processor is grinding its disks as fast as it can as I try to formulate a plan of escape while leading my younger friend from one boxcar to the next, keeping in mind how close the shouts and blasts from the other mechs are.

Wait, it's just me they're after, not Siren. His only risk is staying with me. I crouch and turn to face him, pulling him down to crouch with me, "Siren, I want you to hide, okay? It's me they're lookin' for, not you—"

"**Nighbeat, no—"** he's interrupted as I put my hand over his mouth.

"Do as I say, Siren. Remember what you promised me? Only, I'm tellin' ya to hide instead of run. Stay low, stay quiet, and I'll draw them away and figure something out, okay? If they get me, then wait until they're gone before you head back towards Iacon, got it?"

All I receive in response are a few squeaky whines as Siren tries to speak through my hand, his optics shimmering with coolant. I remove my hand and hold the sides of his helm, holding a gaze with him before turning and giving a final word, "Hide."

I'm relieved as I can hear his legs scuffing along the floor of the boxcar before he disappears from sight obediently, giving me more freedom in whatever it is I'm gonna do to get rid of these 'Cons. I can hear the two arguing venomously outside the train, probably the only reason why they haven't already caught me. I take advantage of my given time to the fullest as I run through the connected train components until finally, I'm forced to abandon my shelter and climb outside into the open. Looking around, I'm deeply unsettled when I find I can't see either of the mechs hunting me down.

I'm not quite as worried about being snuck up on by Brawl, that mech couldn't sneak up on Omega Supreme. It's Barricade I'm more worried about at this point. Silence is never a good thing when he's around, it's like shadows for him to hide in. A sudden, hard knot of fear unexpectedly rises in me, and I can't stop myself as I break out into a dead sprint, running alongside the twisted wreckage towards the front end of the train. I've got a crazy idea, and it involves possibly the only thing that could give me an upper hand over two powerful, grown mechs; here's to hoping that one thing is still intact.

My plotting is cut short as the mech that incited my frenzied running suddenly drops down in front of me, causing me to slip and fall back into the oil-slicked mud with a yelp. I'm struck frozen as I look up at the evil, electric yellow optics that are weighing down on me. His dark tone sends cringing shivers up my spinal strut as he speaks, "I'll never know how it is that an afterthought like you ever got to be such a hard thorn in my side." As if to more firmly express his _feelings_, he brandishes his glowing energon sword with a flick of his arm.

Frag this, I'm not gonna just sit here and let him cut me! I take a risk as I wait for him to get closer, knowing he's just as hooked on _the game_ as Brawl, knowing he'll want to get close and personal before extracting his revenge. As predicted, he kneels in front of where I'm flatly planted on my aft plates and leans in, spewing out some more foreboding words, "I told Brawl I'd let him have your kill, but that doesn't mean I can't warm things up."

Figuring that's his cue to start slicing and/or dicing me, I wait no longer as I grab the biggest handful of chemical-tainted mud I can before slapping it straight into the mech's face. His initial, sharply released shout tells me that the "chemical-tainted" part is definitely doing wonders for his open optics, and his cursing lets me in on just a fraction of his rage. I don't waste time as I avoid his blindly grabbing hands and lay flat before rolling under a scrapped hunk of train and begin crawling through the moderate-viscosity slop. As expected, Barricade's enraged shouts draw his heavier-set partner over, the tank-former's stomping peds sending ripples through the puddles of liquid gathered in the mud.

"You lost him again! What were you doing, _talking _to him? Just jump 'im and stab 'im the next time you see him!" Brawl's barking orders come to a bit of a surprise, as most bots don't get away with talking to Barricade like that. It just goes to show how badly this mech wants my head on a stake.

Barricade seems to understand this, but returns the angry retorts anyways, "You don't seem to be making a lotta progress yourself, so cut yer vocalizer! He crawled under there!"

Nothing good can come of this. I shimmy faster beneath the train, grimacing as I'm completely covered ped to helm in the nasty, hazardous sludge; at least my visor is protecting my optics from the same fate Barricade's underwent. My arms quickly begin to grow tired as the combination of the mud's suction and thickening layers building up on my armor begins to weigh me down. However, the weight of the mud caked onto me doesn't hold the smallest of flames to the weight that abruptly begins pushing down on me from above. The ring of manic cackling cues me in to exactly what's happening overhead—Brawl's starting to jump on the boxcar that I'm currently wedged under.

I allow panic to pump adrenaline into my systems, lending more strength to my flimsy arms as I dig my hands into the mud and drag myself across it, looking ahead and seeing the generic light at the end of the tunnel; or, in this case, the front end of the boxcar. I'm just about to pull myself out from under the massive weight before yelping in alarm as my legs are pinned beneath the collapsing structure. Big mistake; the moment the sound leaves me, I hear an insane burst of laughter from atop the boxcar in return. Sure enough, the towering form of Brawl comes nonchalantly wandering towards the edge of the roof, ugly optic gazing down at me with pure glee.

Turning my optics away from the mech to look ahead, I can see that my target is only a few ped steps away; the engine, the lead locomotive vehicle of the train. Also the place where the most power is packed. I clench my teeth as I pull with all my strength to free myself from beneath the car, the slick mud saving my legs from being crushed and rather sinking them beneath the weight. By some profound miracle, I'm able to free myself, and I all but throw myself forward into the cabin of the lead engine.

"Hn hn, he thinks he's gonna drive away, Barricade. That thing's scrapped, kid, ya can't drive a train on its side, 'specially without a track t' guide ya!" His merry tone continues into his laugh as he drops from the boxcar and begins to climb into the cab. "Barricade, c'mere, he's _hiding_."

"Only so many places he could hide in this fraggin' tight place…" Barricade grunts in frustration as he pushes Brawl a bit to make room for himself as he, too, steps into the engine control cabin. I remain hidden beneath the main control panel as I watch them get into position, fully situated in the small cabin space. I reach up and quickly hit a command key on the panel, drawing the mechs' attention to the cabin door as it slides shut and locks behind them.

"What the frag? Is he locking us in here with—" Barricade doesn't finish his sentence as he looks forward again to see me climbing out the broken windshield of the engine cab, his optics widening when he sees a countdown glowing on the main console, "Fraggit, Brawl!"

"Hurm?" The idiotic sound leaving Brawl is the last thing I hear from the cabin before I leap off the locomotive and land on the ground to the side. I turn my helm to watch just as the countdown in the cabin completes with a satisfying 'ding' before the powerful engine of the unattached train component begins pumping before the propulsion units flare into life. I can hear the two mechs locked inside beginning to argue and panic just before the turbines ignite, sending the locomotive blasting across the desert landscape, nearly blowing me across the ground as mud sprays into the air in the wake of the powerful machine.

Sayonara, jerks.

I cough up a few specks of mud before pushing myself up onto my peds, watching as the charging engine cab continues on towards the morning sunrise, wondering what they'll crash into first. Just as I'm about to turn around, a pair of skinny arms suddenly lace around me from behind, relieving my worries of where my small partner could be.

"You okay, kid?" I shift in the arms and pat the pale grey helm belonging to Siren, looking down at his scrunched up faceplates.

"Y-Yeah, I'm okay…" With a huff, he releases his hold on me and rubs his optics. He stares in the direction of the runaway locomotive for a moment before looking up at me with a deadpan stare, "Do we still hafta go to school today?"

I nearly lose my footing.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean they can't find him?" Prowl's optics flare as he looks to Red Alert, his door panels stiffly set on his back.<p>

"All the other passengers have been accounted for, only five of them are alive, but in critical condition… However, we've not been able to locate the bodies of the two younglings."

Prowl sharply turns his helm towards the wreckage of the derailed train, refusing to take in the news, "No, they should have been in the passenger car like the others, it took on the least damage, and there are no signs of any bodies being projected out…" He then pauses. "Unless they… _walked_ out…"

"Sir?" Red Alert squints his optics lightly, "The chances of anybot being able to walk away from this are—"

Prowl raises a hand to silence the subordinate, "I know what the probabilities are, Red Alert. I'm the last bot you need to remind." His tone is cutting and raspy, exposing his anxiety over the situation. Not this. Not again. He lost Roulette the same way; never knowing what happened to her, her body never being found, no traces of where it could be left behind. He can't lose Nightbeat the same way.

"Sir—?" Red Alert's requests are ignored as the white-armored Praxian trudges through the tainted mud towards the rubble to further investigate.

Kneeling, Prowl looks up into the overturned passenger cab, optics slowly coming to rest on the very seat that Nightbeat had been sitting in when he had departed from the train station earlier that day. His optics dim as he looks over the stains of energon and twisted, melted shreds of metal surrounding the seat.

"Primus… please…"

* * *

><p>By the time Siren and I reach a large hangar on the outskirts of Polyhex, our energon reserves are nearly spent, our processors barely functional as we sway and lean on one another. Time to show Siren what I meant by having an asset in this city. Reaching up, I use my last bit of strength to knock on the heavy-duty blaster door of the laboratory that's conjoined to the hangar.<p>

"In a klik, be right there!" A voice sounds from the other side of the door, followed by a few crashes and grunts before finally the door is unlocked and slides open. A bright set of optics look down at our sorry mess, and a set of blue fin-like components on the mech's helm flash in-sync with his words, "Scrap, you two look like ya been through Unicron's digestive laser tract."

I give the mech the ugliest, most exhausted frown I can muster up in reply, the dried mud on my face and chassis adding a nice touch. He gets the message. Stepping aside and gesturing us to enter with a sweep of his arm, he offers what I assume is a sheepish grin behind his face shield, "I'm just yankin' yer motor belts, guys, c'mon in! The frag happened to you, anyways?"

"Thanks, Jack. We, uh, had a rough train ride from Iacon. Oh, Siren, this is Wheeljack. Wheeljack, Siren." My voice lacks enthusiasm as I drag my peds and walk over to a worn-in couch in the makeshift living section of the lab; I don't know if Jackie even has a real set of living quarters outside of his lab, he hardly ever leaves the place. I release a vent of air as I collapse onto the couch, watching as Siren and Wheeljack shake hands.

"Nice t' meet ya, kid. Any friend of Beatie's is a friend a' mine! Hey, how 'bout somethin' to drink for you two?"

"**That'd be great, I'm so thirsty!"** Both me and Jack jolt out of our plating at Siren's hearty reply.

Wheeljack's flashing helm fins flicker and fritz for a moment before he squints an optic and looks my way, "Er, uh, is your friend legally _deaf_ by any chance?"

"He's got family up in the Sonic Canyons, 'spent a few too many vacations visiting them." I grow a lazy smirk as Wheeljack and Siren give each other curious looks before the older turns to get us some energon cubes.

I watch Siren with dimming optics as he approaches and sits on the edge of the couch, nudging me a bit so I give him some space to sit back. Sighing, he offlines his optics for a moment before looking to me, "How do you know Wheeljack? He's _old_…"

I chuckle as I hear Wheeljack give a few grunted retorts to overhearing Siren's observation from the other room and reply, "He's not that old, Siren," my smile grows as Wheeljack gives an indignant huff, apparently not finding my response very satisfactory, "I came to Polyhex one time to meet him, after reading about his developments in space travel technology… I was intrigued by his work, and we've been buds ever since."

Siren stares at me for a moment, clearly not buying fully into my partial story. "So what makes him an 'asset'? Wait…" His optics brighten as he draws a conclusion, "Nightbeat… Does he have… a space ship?"

Wheeljack pauses as he comes back into the room with a tray of energon cubes, looking to me curiously, wondering if I'm gonna lay it all out for the younger bot. I sit up and look to Siren, "No, he doesn't..." The look of disappointment in Siren's optics is a bit surprising; I thought surely he would be relieved that the dangers of space travel were out of the question. So, I continue, "But I do."

He turns his helm to me, a look of shock on his faceplates, "You… have a ship?"

"I do. It's called the Veilleur."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: SezWho - Glad you enjoyed the dose of action in the last chapter, there's much more to come! And you know I can never get enough of our bantering B-boys, Brawl 'n Barricade, they'll definitely be coming around to express their frustrations. XD

To my vonderful readers and reviewers, Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>I jolt online as a quiet beeping sounds in my processor, my visor lighting up to observe my surroundings. Stiffly, I sit up and give my helm a shake, slowly remembering that I'm on Wheeljack's couch in his lab. A soft humming of hard drive disks draws my attention over to a small, sleeping form at the other end of the couch; Siren. I don't even remember falling asleep, I was so exhausted from everything that happened earlier. From the looks of things, it must be the lunar cycle, all the lights either off or dimmed down, stars visible through the windows.<p>

I'm brought out of my thoughts and remember what woke me as the beeping again sounds in my processor; I'm getting a comlink request. Primus… it's Mom. She must think I'm _dead_, or wandering around in the desert wasteland between Iacon and Polyhex…

Do I let her know I'm alive…? Of course I should, she must be so scared… but then she'll try telling me not to do what I'm planning to, or send Prowl after me.

I have to be a mech now. I can't let her avert me from what I have to do.

:Mom?: My voice is a bit higher-toned than I'd intended.

:Nightbeat! Oh, Primus, Beatie! Are you okay? Please tell me where you are, sweetie, we'll come get you! Is Siren with you?:

My dizzy processor is only sent on more of a whirl by her pounding questions, and I have to take a moment to think straight, :Mom, I'm okay, Siren's okay, too… Mom, I can't come back to Iacon yet.:

There's a pause.

:Beatie, what are you talking about? You're—you don't have to go to the Polyhex school, baby, I told Prowl he could just shove—:

:I know, Mom, I know I'm not going to the school…:

I can feel her processor working on my words, knowing all too well how to encrypt them; just like she had to with my father. :Nightbeat… baby, what's going on? Where are you?:

I can hear the rising fear in her voice. This is a pivotal moment, for both of us. I must admit, I'm a little scared, too… once I do this, I can't go back. Everything will be different.

:Mom… I can't tell you where I'm going. I can't let anybot stop me. I have to do this myself, and… I'm doing a good thing, Mom. I'm doing this… for both of us.:

:Beatie, I love you, I know you're a good boy, but please—baby, I can't lose you, come home, we can work this out _together_…: The hysteria rises in her voice with every word. She knows I'm slipping away, and that she can't pull me back. I'll have to pull myself back.

I have to cut this short, or else I'll let her talk me out of it. Also… I don't know how much more of this I can listen to before my spark gives.

:I love you, too, Mom. I'll come home, but first I have to do this. I love you. G'night…:

With that, I cut the line, and feel my optics sting, my spark tightening in my chest. My intakes tremble as I suck in a deep breath of air. I'm scared. This is it. I'm not a kid anymore. I have to be the smart one, the fast one, the strong one. I have to do it all on my own.

I turn my helm and glance over at my sleeping friend, noting how round and soft his cheeks look in the dim lighting. Look at him. He's just a baby. He's not ready for this, the kind of fearful jump that I'm facing. He's not ready to let go of his innocent naivety, to step out of his shell of ignorant bliss; to see the world like I do.

And maybe I'm not ready to let him. Maybe the thought of him being happy and carefree helps me sleep at night. Maybe he's the last ember of bittersweet childhood that I can turn to.

"Havin' trouble sleepin', kid? Heh, I don't even bother trying these days." I look over to see Wheeljack leaning on the doorway to the hangar, his gleeful helm fins and the light from behind him spilling into the dark lab.

I take a final look at Siren before quietly standing from the couch, leaving him in peaceful recharge as I cross the lab and join the other mech. Stepping into the hangar, my gaze turns upward as I look over the culmination of four years of work; The Veilleur. Mirage and I commissioned Wheeljack for it, thinking we'd someday leave Cybertron and see what lies beyond the dead spacebridges in the sky. Of course, Raj put the money into it, while I worked with Wheeljack to perfect the specs and details, learning along the way how to maintain it once it was ready.

It's not the biggest ship, only having enough room in the cockpit to house four average height Cybertronians along with a small recharge slab in the back and a storage closet. What the Veilleur lacks in size, however, it makes up for plenty in speed. It's a good thing it's fast, too, as Wheeljack refused to put any kind of weapons on it save for a set of small EMP forward canons; just enough to brush off any unwelcomed space goers to buy time for a speedy escape.

I cross my arms and smirk in pride at the accomplishment, though a part of me aches, wishing Raj was here to join me. My moment is brought toppling down, however, when I see a massive form step out from behind the ship, my vocalizer catching, "_Grimlock?_" I turn my helm sharply to Wheeljack, "Jack, what's he doing here? What is this?"

Wheeljack raises his hands in a peaceful attempt to calm me down, "Listen, kid, just hear 'im out, you might be interested in his offer…"

"What offer?" I look to the towering Dinobot with an uncertain snarl curling my lip.

Grimlock crosses over from the ship to where I am and looks down at me, bearing down on me with his excessive height and crimson visor, "I know what you're planning. Here to tell you—it's not a good idea, the way you're planning it. Kid like you,' get eaten nano-klik you leave the exosphere."

I frown and glare straight back up at the huge mech, letting him know he's not gonna push me around to get whatever he's after, "Oh yeah? And what's your _wisdom-enriched _point, Grimlock?"

A cloud of steam leaves the intricate shapes of Grimlock's faceguard at my snappish retort. He points his thumb at himself, "Need bodyguard. I'm offerin', for _free_."

It wouldn't be a bad idea, obviously, to have a huge, blood-thirsty bot around to watch one's aftplates. However, nothing is _ever_ free. Knowing Grimlock, he's got an ulterior motive; he's not one for charity or having a known soft spot for kids. I tilt my helm and give him a suspicious look, "Sure you are, Grimlock. So why don't you tell me why you're _really _here so we can save some time?"

Another vent of steam billows from his helm as his fists twitch; he's not used to bots talking back to him, but by now, he should expect it from me. "Somethin' in Beta-Tri Quadrant that I'm lookin' for. Same place you goin', I can assume, so why not kill two jets with one bolt."

Ah, _there_ we go. I cross my arms and lean my weight on one hip, absently aware of how much I must look like my mother when she gets an attitude, "See, now we're on the same page. One problem, though. I ain't gonna be your chauffer, Grim, and I don't even wanna know what kind of slag you've got goin' in the Beta-Tri Quad. I'm only after one thing, and that's the truth." I almost roll my optics at my own cheesy line.

"Pretty sure of yourself, kid, seeing that you don't know how you even gonna _get_ there."

It's Grimlock's turn to be smug as he crosses his arms. He's got a point. While I have all the maps I could ever need to get to Beta-Tri, I don't have the kind of fuel available to actually take me that far. I figure I'd have to stop at several fueling stations along the way, which could potentially attract unwanted notice from whatever kinds of lowlifes lurk across the galaxy.

Grimlock decides to continue as he senses he's got me thinking over his words, "Decepticon Seekers get out there fast, make it worth their while by not wasting resources."

"And you know how they travel out there?"

A nod accompanies his reply, "They got their own spacebridge."

Both Wheeljack and I double-take at Grimlock's response, "That's impossible… how could they repair one of the bridges without anybot on Cybertron _noticing_? All ya have to do is look up to see if they look any shinier than they did the day before…"

"Didn't repair one of the old ones, 'built a new one, did the construction in a nebula to hide it. I know which nebula."

So that's why the Decepticons have been so quiet up to this point for the past seven years… they've been building a spacebridge, and I never even got a whiff of it. Scrap. I can't let Grimlock drag me or my ship on one of his psychotic revenge trips, quite confident that that's exactly what he has waiting for him in the Beta-Tri Quadrant. I need to know where that spacebridge is, though…

"Is the spacebridge guarded?" Wheeljack and I jolt at the sudden fourth voice and I look down to find Siren standing next to me. Crafty little bugger, when did he come in here?

Apparently Grimlock didn't see the tiny mech's entrance, either, as he growls and comes closer, puffing steam in Siren's face, "You'd rather babysit little blue kid instead of have _me_ cover your aft, Nightbeat?"

Siren attempts to give an indignant frown, but his faceplates cringe up as he leans away from the Dinobot, "**I'm his partner, I'm gonna help him!**"

Grimlock growls and picks at his audio receptor at the little bot's loud retort, "Got a loud mouth on 'im, he'll only get you into trouble." With that, he picks Siren up by the helm, inciting a squeek from the bot.

I let out a defensive growl and go at the Dinobot, swinging my fists at him, but find my shots are coming up short as Grimlock's large hand rests on my helm, keeping me at bay, "Leave 'im alone, Grimlock, he's got nothin' to do with our business!" I regret my ill-put words the moment they leave my vocalizer. Glancing to Siren, I'm met by a surprisingly hot-tempered glare from him as he hangs stiffly from the other mech's hold. Great. Nice going.

Wheeljack's voice chimes into the thick, tension-filled air with a tone of alarm, "Eh, sorry ta interrupt the love-fest, fellas, but we've got a problem. My motion detectors just picked somethin' up comin' from the Northside, it might be some Enforcers comin' around to make their daily sweep a' the joint."

A low gurgling sound rolls out of Grimlock's vocalizer as he drops Siren and looks over to Jack. Reaching out, I try to assist my friend, only to receive a cold shoulder.

I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose, a habit I must've picked up from Prowl at some point. "Great, as if the timing couldn't be any—"

I'm cut off as the large outer door of the hangar is suddenly blasted open, and instinctively I tackle Siren down. Looking up, I'm surprised to see Grimlock standing over us in a protective manner as a thunderous growl bellows from his throat, red visor focused on the blasted entrance.

"C'mon, Siren, move!" Gathering him up onto his peds, I take Siren's arm and pull him to shelter behind the ship.

We both yelp as a second round suddenly fires into the warehouse, closely missing my ship before it explodes onto an opposing wall. Looking around the ship, I can feel my optics nearly bust through my visor when I see two familiar forms stepping through, "Aw, _frag!_"

Barricade's electric yellow optics pierce through the flames surrounding the makeshift entrance as he steps through, looking to his awaiting opponent before smirking sharply, "Grimlock, what are the odds… I always knew you were a _rat_."

Grimlock's visor flares, making him look even more homicidal than usual as he brandishes a white-hot sword. My tanks sink as I see Brawl stand from his tank-mode and come up behind his comrade.

Slag just hit the fan.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Next week is my last week of school, then comes Summer break! Hopefully I'll be able to get some artwork for this (and the first Sector Capri story) out on my DA profile! If you'd like to check out the artwork I already have, you can find me at RadioJane. DeviantArt . com (just take out the spaces ^_^). Come Summer, I'll also have lots more time to give ya'll bigger chapters :D

As always, thank you to my wonderful readers and reviewers, please enjoy!

And a special shout-out to SezWho- you're so awesome, I've been meaning to do something special for ya in thanks, and once Summer hits, I'll have time to! ^_^

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><p>"<em><strong>Nightbeat!"<strong>_

I feel Siren tug hard on my arm as my peds remain frozen on the floor as the tank violently shifts and stands in bipedal mode before charging at us. Brawl's visor is shaped like a wicked grin amidst his enormous, shadowed form, the heat of it focused on me as if it could shoot lasers. I can only manage a single step backwards before the Decepticon is suddenly blindsided and taken to the ground by an even bigger bot—Grimlock. Siren continues to shout something at me as he yanks my arm and drags me to safety on the far side of the ship.

I look around the ship and watch as Grimlock stands over Brawl in his strange alt-mode, it looks like some kind of metallic alien creature with powerful legs and a smashing tail. Not to mention those _jaws_ and snapping teeth. Just before Grimlock can go for the kill bite (by the way his jaws are twitching, I assume he's planning on biting), Barricade reveals himself and darts seemingly out of thin air before running up the Dinobot's back.

"Grimlock!" I can't help but call out to him like a scared child as I fear I'm about to witness his execution, all too aware of Barricade's skill with his blade.

The large Dino thrashes his head around and tries to clamp his jaws around Barricade, but the Gladiator is too lithe, too quick and small to be caught by such oafish movements. I hear Siren release a sharp sound as Barricade slams his energon sword into Grimlock's thick neck, drawing the mech's life blood and spilling it across the floor. This is getting real bad—the hangar building is filling with smoke, the exits cut off by rising billows of fire; the Gladiators have created a death cage, and I'm not sure if they even had their own survival in mind.

Brawl rejoins the fight as his visor flickers back on, sounding sadistically jovial as he laughs at the sight of his partner tearing into Grimlock's back and neck. Drawing his fist back, Barricade catches the hint and hops off the dino-ride just before his partner sends a brutal strike to Grimlock's gut and sends him sliding across the hangar floor with a trail of dancing sparks. The two Decepticons seem too hopped up on this fight to remember me and Siren right away as they take their time in stalking towards their downed opponent. I can't let this happen.

"Have a taste 'a _this_, ya empty-skulled gear-poppers!" Wheeljack suddenly makes an entrance from a back room, wielding an impressive looking piece of hardware—only, I have no idea what it does, and I'm not so sure that Jack knows, either.

Brawl and Barricade's attention is drawn over to the scrawny scientist just before he twists a few knobs and pulls the trigger of his canon-like weapon. Unfortunately, as I sadly predicted, all that leaves the muzzle is a sorry, tiny sputter of fumes and maybe one spark. However, it served its purpose well enough as Grimlock manages to collect himself before he twists on his large alt-form peds and slams his tail into both Gladiators, sending them airborne across the hangar—directly towards me and Siren.

Nice aiming as always, Grimlock.

Barricade is the first to recover from the flight and fall as he pushes himself up onto his knees and raises his helm, sharp optics landing directly on me, "I can't wait to rip out your spine 'n strangle you with it!"

That's a horridly vivid mental image. Now Siren's gonna have nightmares.

I grab a hold of Siren's shoulder and turn to run from Barricade—as if I thought I could. Somehow, I've always managed to avoid being directly chased by Barricade, and rather always ended up with the much slower (in many aspects) Brawl. I find my luck this time, however, is at an end as Barricade's pumping gears and hydraulics beat mine in speed and he's quickly on us. I hit the ground hard as a sharp ped stomps me down, but my spark shoots up into my throat as I hear Siren release a startled cry. Turning my helm as much as I can, I scream out angrily as I'm met with the sight of my friend being roughly held by the scruff of his neck by the dark Gladiator.

I can hear Brawl and Grimlock confronting one another in the back of my processor as everything around seems to quiet down, all of my focus on Barricade's searing frown. His voice makes my plating crawl as he speaks, "You don't seem to learn just how much you could lose, kid. You think just cuz you escaped Kaon that you're invincible. You don't even know what you're getting yourself into—and you don't know what you've gotten your _friend_ into, either." Siren releases a tiny squeak as the mech's hold on him tightens.

I cringe as he shifts his hold on Siren, holding the tiny bot by his throat and lifting him off his peds, "Lemme show you just how easy it is for a kid like you to get his throat cut."

I feel a strangled sound leave my vocalizer as Barricade draws a dagger—but suddenly, something drowns out all the noise in my audios. Siren's large optics are flaring in fear as he looks to his potential killer, but the pistols on the sides of his helm—similarly disguised as simple audio antennae like mine—rotate to point the muzzles at Barricade before releasing a high-frequency sonic scream. Barricade is just as surprised as I am as we both clamp our hands over our audios, and Siren is dropped from the killer's hold.

Despite my painfully ringing audio receptors, I have to feel a sense of pride as I watch Siren glare up at the Decepticon before delivering a blunt kick to the mech's groin. I almost have to feel sorry for how pitifully defeated a so-called badaft like Barricade looks at this moment: doubling over on his knees and holding his bleeding audios.

I'm helped up onto my peds by my partner and look to his optics, holding his shoulders as we exchange a silent moment, acknowledging that we're both alright. So maybe this kid _is _ready. I jolt out of the moment, however, when I hear a sudden, sickening crunch from over my shoulder. Turning, I'm startled by the sight of Grimlock wrenching one of Brawl's arms off in his massive jaws, the tank-former roaring in pain. For some reason, I'm hoping in the back of my processor that Grim won't proceed to _eat_ his trophy limb.

Both Siren and I let out surprised yelps as Wheeljack suddenly grabs our shoulders and turns us around, holding yet another prototype weapon of some kind, "You kids gotta get outta here, this place is goin' down, and these Kaon thugs ain't gonna let up anytime soon! Nightbeat, you got the maps, you know what you gotta do! If ya don't leave now, Enforcers are gonna swarm this place and your ship is gonna be gone for good!"

"But what about Grim—"

"You're not _seriously_ worried about him, are ya? The guy's probably gonna eat both a' these fraggers, he's probably just waitin' for you's two ta book it outta here so he can dine in privacy!"

Neither of us can protest much as Wheeljack practically pushes us into the Veilleur. I turn my helm to look back at Grimlock one last time, just as Brawl transforms and lets off a barrage of shells, blowing even more holes and tanks of volatile chemicals in the hangar. Climbing into the ship, I push Siren down into the co-pilot seat before sitting down myself, both of us strapping and locking ourselves in place before I start powering on the systems. Right as the hull of the ship closes, however, Wheeljack lets out a grunt from the outside of the ship as Barricade suddenly takes him down.

"Nightbeat, Wheeljack—!" Siren presses his nose and palms against the side windshield of the ship as he looks down, gasping as Wheeljack tries desperately to fend off the skilled Gladiator.

"I know, Siren, gimme a klik!" I feel my tanks churn nervously as I slowly lift the ship up off the ground and rotate it until the front end is facing our downed friend. "Where is it where is it, ahhh… There!" Flipping back a safety cap, I flick a switch and online the forward stasis canons, the wide muzzle of the left one clanking against Barricade's helm in a satisfying chime.

I can just imagine the Con's fury as he looks straight into the canon's end with a curse, "You've gotta be fraggin' me—"

That's exactly what I'm doing, Barricade.

Hitting the controls for the left forward canon, I hear an enraged scream followed by a thud, wishing I could see the mech's collapse and twitching, stasis-induced form. Lifting the ship up a bit more, I release a curse of my own as the wings scrape against the wall in a clumsy learner's mistake.

"Nightbeat, you know how to fly, right?" Siren's words sound tightly through his clenched teeth, his hands digging into the arm rests of his chair.

"I've got it lifted up off the ground, don't I?" I let out an unconvincing chuckle as I try to hide my nerves. Moving the ship a little more towards the entrance, I'm forced to stop as Grimlock and Brawl's battle proceeds to block our way. My jaw goes slack as Grimlock suddenly shoots an engulfing cloud of fire onto his opponent—and across the front end of my ship. This thing needs a horn or something.

Downing Brawl for a moment as the mech struggles to put out his flaming chassis, Grimlock's head swings around to look to us through the ship's windshield, gnashing jaws getting specks and streaks of energon across it. That's just nasty.

"Find spacebridge in Dark Belt Nebula on biggest asteroid!"

He just gave us the spacebridge location… maybe I've misjudged him a bit. I give the massive mech a nod before watching him charge across the hangar to re-engage both of my would-be assassins.

"Ya ready, Siren?" I take in a deep breath as I prepare to online the main thrusters.

"**Would you just get us out of here already!" **is his hysterical reply.

I'll take that as a yes.

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><p>Prowl ignores the comlinks of his superior and comrades as he speeds deftly across the terrain of the Badlands, crossing the border into Polyhex. Nightbeat may be sneaky and clever, but he has yet to master the art of masking his trail entirely, especially with Siren along. Following the tire tracks of the two young bots, several alert screens flash on the Praxian's HUD, drawing his attention to the alit laboratory a few miles ahead. What <em>is<em> it about Nightbeat and buildings blowing up? Feeling his nerves tighten, Prowl pushes his accelerator and rushes more quickly towards the scene.

Just as he transforms and stands in bipedal mode, however, a small ship suddenly shoots out of the flames of the entrance, nearly blowing him over, "Slagging Pit—what the frag!" He's a bit thankful none of his subordinates have yet shown up.

Standing, he watches the ship as it escapes into the night sky—and proceeds to break the atmosphere… a space-worthy vessel? He just witnessed an incredible crime! How was such a ship even created? Polyhex has some of the most strict procedures in keeping track of scientists and making sure that nothing illegal is occurring.

Then it hits him. Nightbeat was involved, and that boy somehow knows how to keep a step ahead of the law. Then it _really _hits him: Nightbeat could have been _on_ that ship!

"Primus slaggit—Nightbeat!" Turning, he looks to the flame-engulfed entrance of the warehouse and cautiously proceeds forward to investigate, brandishing his blaster, "This is the Enforcer Department, is there anybot in here?"

His question is abruptly answered as an enormous Dinobot suddenly comes charging through the flames, trampling him flat into the ground. Turning himself over onto his stomach and spitting out a few teeth, Prowl blinks his optics in pure shock a few times before growling. He recognizes that mech.

"**Grimlock!"** Pushing himself to his peds, he tries not to limp as he chases after the towering mech, who seems content with the idea of running off into the desert night. Prowl's voice echoes across the barren landscape as he shouts, "Grimlock, where are the children?"

Not letting up on his stride, Grimlock casually shouts over his shoulder at the following Enforcer, "They go up up an' away! Not my problem!"

"Grimlock, I swear to Primus—if you don't stop and tell me everything you know!" Raising his blaster, Prowl lets off a warning shot, almost hitting one of the Dinobot's peds. Bad idea.

Rearing to a halt, Grimlock's alt-form turns to face the Praxian, a good distance between them, just enough to start up a good charge. A rumbling gurgle leaves the mech's throat as his red optics stare down the icy blue ones of the smaller bot, "You think pretty titles and written law books help you much longer? Time to get practical, Praxian. You either have biggest stick—or you have dead!" With that, the peeved Dino charges and lets out a ringing roar.

Prowl's optics flare as he clenches his teeth, preparing himself as the massive mech charges at him. At the last moment, he runs forward and transforms, speeding between the mech's tall legs before returning to bipedal form and slides forward with his momentum on his back, drawing his blaster and firing at the backside of Grimlock's head. The blast stuns the bigger bot enough to bring down his charge to a stomping trot, but also incites another angry growl.

"Grimlock, I'm not going to stand around fighting you like an idiot wasting time—_tell _me where Nightbeat and Siren are!"

"Huh, at least you admit you idiot." Turning to face the Praxian once more, he leans forward and scrapes his peds along the ground in an upfront cue that he plans to charge again.

Prowl frowns sharply and amplifies the strength of his blaster with a few calibrations before hissing through clenched teeth, "So be it."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Finally, school's out for the Summer! I haven't decided yet whether or not I'll start posting more than once a week as I have been, I'm a bit worried that people might accidentally skip chapters if I mess around with the schedule, but we'll see what happens and how frequently I write throughout the week. X) Plus, I can just always give a warning in my nifty author notes if there's been a previous chapter published during the week.

Thankye SEZwho and TransformersLuver for your comments! They keep me alive XD And Sez, we both know Prowl is just as stubborn as Beatie and won't take 'no' for an answer X)

To my wonderful readers and reviewers, Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>There's a hard pounding in my chest, the air of the cockpit almost as cold as the mist building on the back of my neck. I blink my optics to lubricate them as I absently realize I've had them wide open for the past ten kliks or so. So this is what it is to be in space. There's no bot that can touch us now, not for a long ways at least. No bot that can hear us. To them, down on Cybertron, we're just another flicker of light in the sky.<p>

We're really on our own now. One mistake, and it could be the end. There's no back-up this time, no Prowl, no Wheeljack or Grimlock; no mothers in space to save us from ourselves.

My hands are stiff as I navigate the _Veilleur_ towards our first destination. Not only had Grimlock told us where to find the Decepticons' spacebridge, but apparently he took the presumptuous liberty to preprogram the exact coordinates of it into the ship's mapping program. Maybe he was being presumptuous, thinking I would take him along for a ride. Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought I did and he knew all along I'd do things my way.

He knows me better than I thought he did.

The ship is eerily quiet, drawing my attention to the silent bot in the co-pilot seat beside me; Siren. His haunting, red optics are fixed ahead, looking out to the vast abyss ahead of us, as if trying to see what lies in store for us before it happens.

"Hey…" My voice, though spoken in a whisper, seems to shatter through the silence.

Siren's large optics turn my way, and what he does somehow makes me feel like everything's gonna be okay. He smiles.

"So this is really happening…" he begins, his tone calmer than I was expecting, "It all feels so… surreal." He turns his helm to look back out at the ever-expanding void of stars, space dust, and dots of planets, "I'm a little scared… but I'm okay with that. Change is always kinda scary. But I guess that's what life is all about, huh? It's a good thing. It means we're moving forward, and we hafta get used to it until the next thing happens. And maybe someday I won't be scared when it happens, maybe I'll look for change and run towards it. Like you do."

I'm taken aback for a moment as I look to the young face staring back at me. His wording is a little rough around the edges, but the ideas that the kid's packing in that little head of his… he really is beside me in this, already taking the leap and leaving being a child behind. I just hope he's ready, and that he wants to be. I hope he won't hate me if he has a rough landing on the other side, and that he makes it to the other side with me.

I give him a nod and a small smirk, "Hopefully you won't be too much like me and frag off too many bots in the process."

He smiles again and shrugs, "Maybe that's just how you roll."

"Slag yeah it is." We both chuckle, dismissing our cares for a moment before a soft chime sounds on the mapping monitor of the ship's main control panel. Looking to a holographic screen displayed over the front windshield, I see our destination is coming up fast. Adjusting the focus of my optics, I look past the map display and have to look twice at what's ahead. "Weird…"

The expanse of distant stars ahead of us almost appears to be blinking out of existence, as if something is swallowing them up. It takes me a moment to realize that the stars aren't being consumed; they're being obscured from our line of sight by something in _front _of them.

"The Dark Belt Nebula…" Siren speaks my thoughts.

Generally, nebulae are places where masses of interstellar dust and gasses gravitate together, following a series of astronomical phenomena to produce newborn stars. With stars in various stages of their lifecycles giving off their radiance within these nebulae, they're generally brilliantly colored places and bright enough to be seen for light years all around. This isn't the case, however, for the Dark Belt Nebula, as the crude name hints.

In this case, the nebula we're approaching is a dark patch in space, the unlit stardust acting like a black veil to anything within or behind it. The perfect place to hide something like a spacebridge. I flip off a few program switches and take manual control of the ship, relying on the 3D grid mapping that displays itself over the windshield, giving a clear outline of the gaseous clouds and any stray space rocks floating around.

"Grimlock said it would be on the biggest asteroid… How do we know which one is the biggest if we can't see them all?" Siren speaks as he curiously peers out the side porthole by his seat, unable to see anything beyond the hull as we're consumed in pitch darkness. A tight, eerie sensation settles in the seat of my tanks as any and all traces of light surrounding us is put entirely out by the ominous forms of dust. I flick on the cockpit's interior lights, their subtly tinted color spilling out of the windshield and portholes of the ship and lighting the churning plumes surrounding us.

"This is creepy, Nightbeat… How were the Decepticons able to do _anything_ in this place? I can't even see the front end of the ship… And they built a _spacebridge_ in here?"

He's got a good point. These conditions seem impossible to work in, but I have to assume the Decepticons had some kind of technology to make up for the lack of visuals. I give the best reply I can muster up, "They're crafty, Siren, and they seem pretty adapted to working in the shadows; on a lotta levels."

Siren nods before bringing up another good question, "So do you think it's gonna be guarded?"

"There's always the chance. But then, why would they feel the need to? Cybertron is on shutdown, bots aren't _supposed_ to be pokin' around out here. They probably think they're the only ones around, and I get the feeling they're not worried about anybot _looking_ for them, or their spacebridge out here. Y'know, fingers crossed 'n all."

Siren nibbles his lip anxiously and nods, getting a bit restless in his seat as his legs bounce on his peds a bit. I smirk at him to try to distract him, "Ya look like you're about to spring a leak, Si. Need me to pull over so you can take care of that?"

I receive an indignant pout for the joke and can't help a snicker. However, Siren's expression quickly changes to bug-eyed surprise as he looks ahead and points, **"Lookit that!"**

Following his line of sight, I raise my optic ridges and give a whistle in surprise at the sight of a clearing in the dark clouds. A pulsing, soft blue light fills the interior of the ship as we enter the cleared pocket that's obscured from the outside by the nebula matter surrounding it. Unevenly spaced rings of slowly orbiting asteroids pass in and through the clearing, casting their long shadows away from the origin of the light source emanating from what I could safely wager is the asteroid we're looking for. Sitting atop it is a large, gate-like structure; it looks different from the spacebridges I've seen lingering over Cybertron like dead weight. It would make sense that the Decepticons have likely modified the pre-existing blueprints.

"It doesn't look like there are any kinds of posts or bases around it… We just might be getting our free ride without a hitch."

Siren looks to me, his optics squinting in an uncertain look, "Has anything ever really gone without a hitch?"

It's my turn to pout, but I can't really argue with him. Hiding the ship behind an asteroid, I watch the radar screens for a moment and determine what the next move is. There aren't any apparent indications that we're not alone, and my nerves are telling me we're only wasting time waiting for something to happen. Reactivating the engines, I draw the Veilleur away from the rock and aim it towards the glowing spacebridge; luckily, the Cons must use it often enough that they just leave it on all the time… makes me wonder just how much power they have access to.

I'm entranced by the swirling, lustrous portal of the spacebridge for a moment, feeling like its light is filling my entire head before I take my optics away and look to Siren, "Ready for your first spacebridge ride?"

He sounds a little breathless as he presses back against his seat and grips the armrests, "Sure I am, tell me if we survive or not."

I'm unable to hold back a smile as I look to the galaxy-like swirl of light again, excitement surging through my sensory network. Taking a hold of the ship's controls, I clench my teeth as I punch on the boosters and hang on as we shoot into the devouring radiance of the spacebridge.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean 'no'?"<p>

Sentinel Prime releases a heavy vent of air and turns away from the target range to face his young Second-in-Command, putting the large blaster in his hand on safety lock, "Prowl, you know the laws better than anybot else. We _cannot_ 'go after them'. Though only _children_ as you keep reminding me, they have broken more than just Cybertron's atmosphere, but they've also broken out of our jurisdiction. The High Council banned space travel long ago, along with the construct of any means of doing so. You're lucky word of this hasn't reached the Council yet, there just might be a chance of them _not _being locked away for the rest of their lives when they _do_ return."

Prowl tries to suppress a deepening frown as his neck cables tense, "If the laws are so strict, then how is it that a ship was even built in _Polyhex, _of all places? Something isn't adding up, Sentinel, there's no way that a pair of _children_ should have been able to do this!"

"I don't know why you're asking me, Prowl, why don't you ask the hardcases that are investigating the lab it was built in? Oh, because the place was burnt down, hm." The Prime's tone is nonchalant as he turns to face the target range once more, loading his weapon.

The young Praxian Enforcer stares at his superior in silent shock for a moment. _None _of this is adding up. The fact that an illegal vessel was constructed in the city with the strictest laws in regards to practices in laboratories, Sentinel Prime's ho-hum attitude… What is it that Prowl's not been told?

Prowl watches as the Prime shoots a few targets before stepping up again, "I refuse to believe that we do not have access to means of long-range space travel, Sentinel. We are a planet centered around preserving ourselves, _surely_ we have vessels that could be launched if there was ever the threat of an outside invasion, there _must _be a way that we can—"

"I've been Prime for three orbital cycles, Prowl, and still you refuse to address me as such." The taller mech turns his helm to gaze down at the Praxian, "You know what you _need _to know. Of course we're prepared to defend ourselves if the need ever arose, but such resources aren't to be divulged upon for a mere _runaway_ case. And, as I recall, this same _child_ has had this issue before."

"He was _kidnapped_ seven years ago, he did not run away." Prowl's wing-like door panels arch stiffly on his back in vexation, "What about the colonies? Everybot knows that Cybertron sent out exploratory colonies through the spacebridges during the Golden Age, _surely _we must still have some form of contact with them…"

Sentinel's helm turns sharply on the Second, "The colonies were _abandoners_, Prowl, they left Cybertron and thus deemed themselves dead to us. Chances are, that is _exactly_ what they've become."

Again, Prowl is left silenced by the other's brash words, "You can't really believe that… Is that what the _High Council_ wants you to think?" He blinks and takes a step back as the Prime suddenly advances towards him briskly.

"You're beginning to sound _dangerously_ similar to those extreme activists that are plaguing the grid waves with their _treasonous_ propaganda, Prowl. I would suggest very strongly that you watch what leaves that vocalizer." He stares down the younger mech for a searing moment before turning and starts towards the entrance of the target range, "I don't want to hear another word of this. If you must, then go ahead and continue chasing ghosts, but you're going to have to accept that that's what those boys are to Cybertron."

The room is silent as Prowl watches his superior leave, left beside himself, stunned. By the mech's brutally defensive nature… he has a little more hope that perhaps Nightbeat and Siren aren't alone out there after all…


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Well, the extra postings didn't happen this week, but we'll see how things go as I get into my Summer groove XD; And man o' man! The reviews ya'll left me! I'm so grateful for all of your support, readers and reviewers! If I could, I would bake you each a pie (or cake, if you don't like pie)~

SezWho- haha that "certain mech" will arrive soon enough XD

TransformersLuver- I'm glad that you like how I write for our favorite bots, I really have a blast with it ^_^

Tiamat1972- Heh what's a Nightbeat story without a load of trouble? XD I'm so glad you're enjoying!

Random117860- Thank you so much, I really enjoy building things up in my lil alternate universe to show how things started up before the war. So glad to see another Nightbeat fan! X)

To all my Readers and Reviewers, you all are so great, your support means the world to me! Please Enjoy!

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><p>A subtle, blue glow emanates from a set of high-voltage energy bars in the brig hall of the Enforcer Department in Iacon, dancing across the clouds of steam coming from the prisoner inside the cell. The large bot's form is still and foreboding, his helm lowered as if silently plotting schemes of violent retaliation. It isn't until his audio receptors pick up the quiet presence of another bot that Grimlock lifts his helm, scarlet visor onlining.<p>

"Only a Praxian can sneak up on me. Only a Praxian has the nerve."

Prowl's cold optics quietly observe the Dinobot for a moment before he speaks, "You know where they are, don't you."

Grimlock returns the stare before giving a nonchalant shrug, "Dunno who you're talking about. I'm a busy bot, gotta know where a lotta things are."

The Enforcer's neck cables tense at the reply as he steps closer to the glowing energy bars of the cell, "I'm not here to play head games with you, Grimlock. Those two boys have just put themselves into a world of danger—"

"More like a universe of danger," Grimlock interrupts.

"You think this is a _joke?_"Prowl's words hiss through clenched teeth, "Despite appearances, I know that you're more knowledgeable than you come off as. Now just answer me this—do you or do you not know where Nightbeat and Siren are going in that ship? I won't ask you why, I just need to know…" The Praxian's faceplates tighten as a hint of desperation briefly slips into his tone.

The imprisoned mech lifts his helm to the other at this, sitting up a little from his hunched position. His faceguard and visor-obscured demeanor betrays nothing as it gazes wordlessly at the young Praxian standing on the other side of the cell bars, the blue radiance of them lost amidst the white-armored mech's icy optics. Letting out a deep vent of steam, Grimlock replies, "I know where they're headed. Not a place you can reach, though. Not a place anybot that abides by High Council's book can reach."

"And what about you?" Prowl's gaze is unflinching as he looks to the underground Gladiator's red visor.

Grimlock is taken aback for a moment; does this kid mean what he's insinuating? A soft gurgle leaves his vocalizer, warning the Praxian not to prod if he's not committed to what he's implying, "Might not look smart to a stuck-up brat like you, but I know how to get around." He continues before the Praxian can nitpick for a more specific answer, "Yeah, I can find the kid."

"And to do so, you would need a ship…" The Enforcer's words come out as more of a contemplative statement than a question as his optics glance to the side, optic ridges furrowing slightly.

"That, and to be outta this cell. Can't do slag with a ship in here."

Prowl's optics flicker to the Dinobot prisoner, the two mechs holding optic-contact for a silent klik. He tries to mask the uncertainty in his tone as he speaks again, "Hypothetically speaking, how would I know you wouldn't just take the ship and never return?"

"You wouldn't know," another shrug from the Dinobot, "But, hypothetically, maybe I like the kid. Or, maybe he owes me money. Here's a better question…" Shifting, Grimlock stands from the cell bench and approaches the bars, towering over the Praxian as he looks down at him, "What other option you got?"

The disks in Prowl's CPU are faintly audible for a moment as he tries to process all the potential outcomes of this line of action, most of them not ending too well with a Dinobot being a main factor. However, the brutish mech has a good point, addressing the grim truth of the situation. He glances off for a moment before giving Grimlock a brief nod and turns, briskly walking down the hallway of the brig, stopping himself from looking into another cell as he passes by.

A set of electric yellow optics light up as a dark helm rises to watch the white-clad Enforcer go by. The second prisoner sneers from his cell, "Ya gonna give me a ship, too, officer?"

Prowl pauses at the cell, cold optics narrowing sharply at the Decepticon prisoner, "You can count on receiving less than nothing towards your benefit from me, Barricade."

A chuckle leaves the dark Gladiator, "Huh, y'know somethin', Praxian? I'm just as surprised to see _you_ still kickin' as when I found out that Capri brat was. I guess I didn't push that blade in deep enough the last time you and I met… I'll remember not to make that mistake twice." A wicked grin grows on the mech's faceplates as he intently watches Prowl's reaction.

Holding his ground steadily, Prowl doesn't give the mech the pleasure of seeing him quake in his armor, not that he would anyways. It's his turn to return the venom, "And I'll have to remember to take more than your arm next time, maybe your vocalizer so you'll find reason to keep your mouth shut." Turning away, he continues down the hall towards the brig entrance.

Barricade's low chuckle rises into a satisfied cackle. He just found his source of amusement to sustain him during his incarceration.

* * *

><p>A long, stretching vessel of alien construct drifts silently amidst a nebula in the Beta-Tri Quadrant, obscured from any prying eyes that would take a curiosity to it. Aboard the modified Shi-Lai-built ship, a tall figure stands at the command bridge with a pair of crimson optics looking out into the deep expanse of space. Every star is a potential energy source, every rock a promise of conquest. This universe was made to fall under his rule, as it will in due time.<p>

A deep voice breaches the silence in the command room, "Soundwave, report our progress in our… _dealings_ with the Shi-Lai Empire."

A yellow visor lights up from the shadows, followed by a synthesized voice, "Our continuation of exported trades has solidified safe harbor in Shi-Lai territory for Seeker units…" Soundwave is interrupted as he turns his helm to look to a red and white Seeker that enters the room loudly.

"What you _ought_ to be more concerned with, _Lord Megatron_, is keeping track of _our side_ of the spacebridge. I think it is foolish to allow the Shi-Lai's explorer colonies into our quadrant, have you not ever heard of their Blood Tyrant? To let them into the same _solar system_ that Cybertron lies in is tempting fate!" Starscream's shrill voice echoes in the spacious command room as he approaches where Megatron stands on the bridge.

An exasperated sigh leaves the Decepticon leader before he turns his helm to look to his Second in Command, "Starscream, once more you fail to display any semblance of a memory core. I have no concerns in regards to the Shi-Lai, _nor _oftheir 'Blood Tyrant' leader." Turning to face the expansive window looking out to the forefront of space, he continues, "The exploring colonies will be all too easy to dispose of when the time comes, and their empire will be soon to follow in a similar fate. Once I gain control of Cybertron, we will use our attained means to transform it into the mighty war machine it was _meant _to be. The Shi-Lai, should they dare to challenge me, shall be the first to face the wrath of Cybertron's new form…"

Raising an optic ridge, Starscream crosses his arms and leans his weight on one hip, displaying quite openly how unimpressed he is, "I still think it is a _fool's errand_ to try to turn a _planet_ into a _dreadnaught_."

Turning sharply on his heel to face his Second, the dark lord's optics flare with hostile warning, "Do not _test_ me with your incessant moans, Starscream. You will discover very quickly that the delivery of your words is itself a fool's errand if you continue to try my patience." Staring down his defiant Air Commander a moment longer, he gives a scoff of disgust before calming, "You have something to report to me, I take it?"

Squinting his optics, Starscream gives a mocking smile to his leader, "Oh, I just felt like stopping by to ask how your day is going, I am ever-so compelled by our deep spark-to-spark chats." Deciding not to tempt the larger mech's anger any further upon hearing a low growl from the other, he continues, "We're no closer to finding the cog than we were five cycles ago, I think we're out here chasing _ghosts_."

"Including that of the _Capri Detective_, as you and your comrades continue to claim, isn't that right?" Megatron narrows his optics and allows himself a sharp smirk at his scowling subordinate.

Starscream's optics flare as he clenches his fists angrily, "I _tell _you, it's him! He has delayed our progress by—it doesn't matter, because he will be _dealt _with."

"Then perhaps in the meantime, you can deal with accomplishing the other _menial _tasks I have regrettably assigned to you and your trine?"

The Air Commander hisses at the biting, sarcastic sound in the other's voice, "Rest _assured_, mighty leader, _all things important_ shall be accomplished by my hand. If you're looking to scold somebot, perhaps you ought to turn your gaze to our home front."

"Oh?" Raising an optic ridge, Megatron frowns lightly, but seems hardly concerned, "And why might I do that?"

Pausing, the Air Commander realizes how he's just betrayed himself and hesitates, "Well, you see, there are those under your leadership who have… failed to comply with your orders…"

The Decepticon leader catches on quickly to his Second's hesitance and frowns more deeply, "Do tell, Starscream, you know I hate to be left in the _dark_ about anything. Or perhaps I should just have Soundwave save you the trouble?"

"I—you see, it's—Barricade and Brawl." The flyer swallows as he stumbles on his words. Barricade and Brawl, two bots who are supposed to be under _his _supervision despite his lack of presence on Cybertron. He left the two at their command posts in Tarn to oversee the continuation of the dark energon mining only a few solar cycles ago… yet things managed to go terribly wrong during his thus far short leave of absence.

Instantly, Megatron's optics flare furiously at the mention of the two mechs, well aware of their vital tasks as overseers of his mines, "Starscream, either you stop wasting my time with your drivel or I force it out of you!"

"Y-Yes, Lord Megatron! Well, I—the details of _why_, I am unaware of, but—hah!" Starscream flinches as his leader raises his fusion canon to him, "Alright, they have both gone AWOL, and one of them—I don't know which—has landed in an Iacon jail!"

Megatron watches as the flyer trembles under the heated focus of his canon for a moment before lowering his weapon with an infuriated hiss, "I hold you responsible for this, Starscream, and you had best find a way to make it right very quickly. I will not allow for the efforts I have placed into building my stronghold in the Southern Hemisphere and into those mines to crumble for a single idiot's shortcomings!"

Releasing an indignant growl, the previously trembling flyer steps up and gestures his arms in the air, "I can only be in so many places at once, Megatron! How do you expect me to _babysit_ your dim-witted soldiers on the other end of the galaxy when you've got me flying all about this _waste_ of a quadrant looking for something we're not going to find?"

A scoff leaves the dark lord's intakes as he looks down on his Second, "You admit, then, that you are incompetent and unable to fulfill the tasks I give you?"

Starscream's optics widen as he pauses to figure out what just happened there, blinking dumbly at Megatron's growing sneer before he lets out a frustrated hiss, "I am _plenty_ competent, when I am pursuing _meaningful_ operations under _meaningful_ leadership!"

"I grow tired of your shrill cries, Starscream," Megatron huffs as he waves his hand dismissively at the Seeker, "I can rely on _Makeshift_ to see to it that the opportunity of having one of our soldiers within Iacon's Enforcer Department is not surpassed. When Iacon's time is at hand, it will serve a well enough purpose to have two infiltrators take down the Enforcers' structure from the inside rather than Makeshift alone. Hn, if we're lucky, _Barricade_ is the one that's been captured; Brawl would destroy the advantage of surprise with his first step."

Soundwave's drone voice suddenly interrupts, "Lord Megatron."

Looking to his loyal lieutenant, Megatron nods, "Yes, Soundwave, report."

"There has been a breach in the spacebridge's protocols. An unverified vessel has passed through the Dark Belt gate and is on a path towards the Nexus Space Station."

"Impossible, there isn't an alien vessel that would journey close enough to Cybertron to find the spacebridge… Unless we're dealing with something entirely different…" Megatron glances off in thought for a moment before looking to Starscream, "Track the ship down and find out who it is we're dealing with. I expect this to be finished on a _brief _timescale."

Starscream nods with a frown, "As you wish, my _Lord_." Turning sharply on his peds, the red and white Seeker leaves the command room to gather his fellow flyers.

Whoever is piloting this mystery ship will provide a supreme opportunity for the Air Commander to vent his frustrations. After all, Megatron failed to verify whether or not he wanted the ship or its pilot intact.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I hope everyone's having a nice start to their Summer, or if you're not on break, to your weekend! I'll explain who the new face in this chapter is based off of in the author notes of next week's chapter, but if anyone would like to take a guess, please do so in the comments! If anyone can guess correctly, I'll... congratulate you and note your awesomeness in next week's notes XD

SezWho and Random117860, thank you for your comments on last week's chapter, I'm glad to see I've kept you entertained! X)

Beloved Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>"Nexus Space Station…" Siren's voice is hushed for once, in awe as he gazes to the spiraling station amidst the drifting asteroids.<p>

We did it. We made it to the Beta-Tri Quadrant. Now the real work begins. There are thirteen planets in this Quadrant, several more space stations like this one dotting the void in between, and countless settlements on the larger asteroids and moons; and here we are, looking for the origin of the ore that created the final gift my father left me. Maybe "gift" isn't the right word for it. Anyways, hopefully Orion's information was accurate when he said the ore came from a planet, else we might be out here for a much longer stay.

Cautiously, I bring the _Veilleur _closer to the drifting space station, the strange, spinning-top form of it alien in every sense to us. There's no telling what we're gonna see in there, but I don't plan to stick around for too long. Chances are, this station is hit up often by Decepticons, being so close to the spacebridge, so hopefully the locals are used to seeing Cybertronians and won't pay too much attention to us. If we're really lucky, there won't be any Decepticons around, either.

"Nightbeat… we're gonna see aliens in there, huh…" Siren turns those eerie, red optics of his towards me, a concerned tone lacing his voice.

I look to him and nod, "Yeah, probably a lot've organics, so try to brace yourself if you can. 'Might be a bit culture-shocked, but try to keep a low profile."

He nods, nibbling anxiously on his lip as he looks to the approaching space station. "Why are we stopping here, anyways? We've got plenty of fuel, thanks to the spacebridge…"

"We need to get some bearings, chat up the locals to see if we can get any leads on where the ore of the sphere map came from. See if anything else that might interest us is going on 'round here."

He looks to me quietly. He's gonna ask it, I can feel it in his stare.

"Alright, that makes sense… but, Nightbeat?" He waits until I look at him to continue, "While we're out here, we're gonna find out what's going on with the Capri Detective rumors, right?"

I squint my optics behind my visor in thought and look forward, quiet for a moment. Reaching forward, I power down the thrusters and allow the space station's gravity generator to do the rest of the work, granting a request from the station's control center that pops up on the communications console to guide the ship to the docking bay. "If we hear something that sounds like it might be worthwhile, then maybe."

Again I can sense Siren's want to say something more, the glow of his optics washing out the corner of my peripheral vision. He releases a quiet sigh and sits back in his seat, holding onto the armrests as the ship is brought to a halt in the docking bay.

Standing from my seat, I pat his shoulder before heading towards the back of the ship to get something. He stands and follows me, "Hey, couldn't there be Decepticons here? What if they see us?"

"This station is a big place, Si, and there can't be that many 'Cons kickin' it around here, not if Megatron is working them like I assume he would be. We'll have plenty of space in there to lay low if we need to. Plus…" I kneel and open up a hidden compartment in the floor of the storage closet, "We've got these." Reaching in, I lift out a sleek, black-plated blaster.

Siren's optics widen at the sight of the weapon, taking a small step back as his jaw goes slack, "Where—Where did you _get _that? Nightbeat, that's a _gun!_"

I roll my optics and shake my helm a little. Kid's got a _keen_ sense of observation, I knew there was a reason I brought him along. I stand and turn to him, keeping the plasma blaster pointed down as I check the power cell and safety, "We're not on Cybertron anymore, Siren, there aren't any Enforcers around here to look after our afts. We're on our own, so we gotta look _out_ for our own, get it?"

Siren watches me handle the gun, his pale blue face scrunched up in uncertainty before he nods, "Yeah, I get it… So, you know how to shoot that thing, right?"

I nod to him, "Learned how to take care of it in a weapons maintenance class at the Academy, 'n Prowl took me to the target range every so often to teach me how t' shoot."

"Really? Prowl taught you to shoot?" Siren's optics are large in surprise.

I give him an indignant snarl, "Yeah, really. Why's it a big deal Prowl taught me?"

"I dunno, I just figured the last thing he would want you to be holding was a gun…"

I raise an optic ridge as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, "What's that supposed to mean? What, you think I'm gonna go on some kinda crusade the nano-klik I get a blaster in my hands?"

"Things already seem to either blow up or implode on itself when you're involved _without _a gun, that's all I'm saying…" His smirk grows into a cheeky grin.

Oh, you little punk.

I release an exasperated vent of air and roll my optics at him, "Primus, since when do you have a mouth on ya? You used to be so cute when you'd just sit around yelling about how fluffy the clouds of smog looked."

"Well, I guess I've learned that _'smartaft'_ is the only language you seem to respond to." He gives a smarmy shrug and crosses his arms casually before looking to me, "Aw, so you really _were _listening to me when I used to talk about the smog clouds?"

Primus, this kid. Like Mirage, it seems I've created another monster.

"It was kind of hard _not_ to listen, you must've snapped the wires in my audio receptors with every other word." Shifting the weight of the blaster in my hand, I open up the subspace compartment in the side of my leg and watch as several mechanical arms reach out and accept the weapon before tucking it away in the compartment. Looking to Siren again, I nod, "Alright, enough joking around, let's go."

Siren blinks and double-takes at the supply closet as I walk past him, "Hey, wait, don't I get one?"

Frag, I knew he'd ask. I turn and look to him, "When's the last time you went to the shooting range, Siren? If ever?"

"I've gone lots of times! I actually _went_ to the Academy on a daily basis, remember?"

Ouch. No need to be nasty. I put my hands on my hips and huff, "Alright, so you know how to handle one, then?" I can't believe I'm asking. I just don't know if it's the right thing to do, even if he knows how to shoot one… what if he _had _to? Is that something he's ready to bear?

He nods briskly at my question, "Yeah, I know how to disassemble and reassemble one, I know how to clean one, I know how to aim 'n shoot, how to put it on safety…" He must recognize the look of uneasiness on my face, "Nightbeat, I can _do_ this… Yeah, I'm still… kinda young, yeah, but it's like you said. We're out here on our own, and we've gotta look _out_ for each other. That means _you're_ gonna have to trust me, Nightbeat…"

Slaggit, of all the times for his tiny sliver of intellect to show up. I guess it really isn't my decision at this point, and I would rather that he has a way to defend himself in case we somehow get separated. With a heavy sigh, I nod to him, "Alright, Si. You're right, I'll trust you."

I return to the supply closet and pull out a second blaster and turn to him, holding it out, "You don't let anybot know that you have this. And you don't pull it out unless you're willing and ready to use it, alright? If you pull it out, _use _it, don't let somebot take it away from you and turn it on ya. If it's out, and you're in danger, don't hesitate."

He nods and reaches out, accepting the weapon, looking it over and checking it before he subspaces it, "Don't worry. I'll know what to do."

"Alright… C'mon, then, let's see what we can learn." I put my hand on his shoulder and go to the entrance hatch of the ship, glancing to my partner before opening the entryway and step out onto the dock.

Both of our helms turn skyward as we look towards the top of the spiraling space station before we head towards the round entrance hall. So far, no signs of anything else living; we were parked on what appears to be an empty section of the bay. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.

A row of elevators line the inside of the spacious entrance hall, and we take our pick, stepping in before looking at our level options on the colorful keypad. It would probably help if one of us could read what the buttons say, as all the text is in what's likely Shi-Lai. Taking a wild guess, I hit the largest icon and glance to Siren, who's worrisomely quiet and turning pale.

The elevator shifts before going up, the ride a bit rickety before coming to a sudden stop. I wrinkle my nose as a smoky, dank stench filters into the elevator as the doors part open. Stepping out, my gears lock up momentarily at the sight of a busy, metropolitan precinct, littered with aliens of all shapes and sizes.

Ugh, and smells.

I look to my side to see how Siren is doing and jolt a little when I don't see him there, only to pout when I find him partially hiding behind me. Stepping slowly away from the elevator, I look all around to take in the variety of tightly-bunched buildings and neon-lit signs. It actually reminds me a lot of Kaon, all the dark, grungy alleyways, plumes of toxic steam rising from underground waterways through the street vents, and the overall feel of being _dirty_.

My kind of place.

"Nightbeat, this place is huge… where are we supposed to go to find anything?" Siren speaks up from behind my shoulder.

Taking a confident stride forward, I lead my partner through the rolling clouds of steam, colorful neon lights dancing across them like an insane artist's swan song. Hearing Siren's light peds skitter quickly behind mine, I glance over my shoulder to answer him, "We're gonna go to the same kinda place where I always find the information I'm looking for."

It takes the pale blue mech a moment to connect the dots (which really aren't spaced that far apart, metaphorically speaking) before he grabs onto the back of my arm, "Wait, you don't mean we're gonna go into a…" he glances around as if afraid that Prowl's gonna jump out and get him in trouble, whispering, "… a _bar?_"

"Eeyup." I raise an optic ridge at Siren's ominous tone, "What, don't tell me you're _nervous_, you've been going to my mom's bar every day since you were old enough to walk. Why the cold peds now?"

"Because, this isn't the Rusty Ruby we're talking about, this is… it's an _actual_ bar!"

"An actual bar? Siren, I can't begin to tell you how much sense that _doesn't_ make. There were rough types at the Rusty Ruby all the time, and a fair share of fights. There's no difference."

"Nightbeat, those 'rough types' were our neighbors, we knew them all." He gives me a deadpan stare that I pretend I don't see.

I huff and shake my helm a bit as I continue down the narrow, cracked streets of the strange inner city, wondering if he's gonna be this reluctant with everything. I have to remind myself that I need to be patient with him, though, this is all very new to him. A lot of it is new to me, too, and it seems to be testing my temper. It's not until we make it to what looks like the darkest, grimiest corner of the metropolis that I spot a prime information depot.

A lone, isolated bar that's amidst tall rows of shanty apartments stands out in the mist like a shining beacon of knowledge. I hadn't realized that Siren was still hanging on to the back of my arm until I feel his hand tighten a little, expressing his apprehension. A loud, thumping bass shakes what remains of the mostly broken windows of the bar, the moving shadows and lights flickering across the street from them indicating that there's a lively bunch inside. Like a magnet, the bar pulls in several wandering souls of organic and techno substance alike; it's this city's gold mine of back alley deals and drunken mouths that know too much for their own good.

"You ready?" Before I let Siren answer, I move forward and enter the bar, my visor brightening to adjust to the lighting; or lack thereof. A number of organic eyes turn to look us over as we move through the dancing crowd of what I assume are females of other species, making our way to the bar. Siren swallows stiffly as he looks around at the organic aliens with large optics, doing his best to stay subtle about it. The bartender, washing several glasses and wiping down the bar top with five arms, gives us a sideways once-over before pushing a pair of highgrade cubes towards us, not looking like he's gonna ask for pay.

So the Decepticons must get free booze, I gather. The bartender obviously can't tell that we're under the legal drinking limit (or Decepticons), which is a good sign that perhaps other aliens won't realize we're not adults, either. I absently lift one of the cubes and take a testing sip to see if it's actual Cybertronian highgrade, squinting an optic at the synthesized aroma of it. It's not Cybertron-originated, and it's definitely stronger than anything I've ever tried. Pausing, I turn my helm to Siren as I feel him staring at me incredulously and give him a sheepish smirk.

I try to make up something believable, "Hey, we've gotta look the age 'n part, right? No one's gonna talk to a couple of kids. Act natural." My optics dart off to the side as I steal another sip of the cube.

Wait. Did I just tell Siren he can drink? I must be contending for the record of how fast I can expose him to everything he's not supposed to do. And by how quick he's been to jump on nearly every opportunity, it seems like he's aiming to catch up with me.

I don't have time to re-word my explanation before he picks up the second cube and takes a gulp. Not a sip, but a gulp. I try to keep myself composed as he chokes before holding his hand over his mouth and nose to keep himself from squirting out the drink from either hole. Swallowing it down hard, he clenches his optics shut with a shiver for a moment before looking to me with an accusative pout. I give him a smarmy smirk and shrug.

"See? Natural." I snicker as his cheeks flush in embarrassment and take another drink. Alright, enough fun, time to scope out the crowd, listen in and see who knows anything worthwhile. A lot of these aliens look like workers, maybe even soldiers by their size and build. By the way they keep glancing our way, it seems like they're either still not adapted to seeing Cybertronians—or maybe recognize that we're new faces. Megatron likely only lets his Seekers fly around this Quadrant, so the locals are probably used to seeing the same bots. We're gonna have to get this done fast so we can skip outta dodge before they realize something's off.

Before I can finish scanning the layout of the bar, something soft and squishy suddenly puts pressure on my shoulder. I turn my helm maybe a bit too quickly to seem like a casual patron and blink when I find a small, organic hand touching me. Looking up the length of the slender arm attached to it, I'm met by a pair of sharp, emerald eyes, encased in a pretty doll-like face.

Siren's oblivious as he continues to curiously sip and test his highgrade as I remember to online my vocalizer, "Can I help you?"

"Maybe, but I think I can help you more." The woman's voice is smooth and laced with a vibrant accent like nothing I've ever heard before. She tilts her hooded head to the side, gesturing to the back of the bar where it looks to be more subdued and secluded.

I look at her for a moment before nodding and tap Siren's arm, "Wait here, keep it up with the 'natural look'." Turning before he can respond as he chokes on his drink, I follow the enigmatic creature through the busy dance floor before approaching the table she sits at, deciding to stay on my peds.

"Aren't you going to take a seat?" She seems all too casual about this unexpected encounter.

Maybe I'm the only one who wasn't expecting it.

"What makes you think you can help me? Why do you think I _need _help?" I keep my own tone calm and aloof to keep anyone around from getting curious as I look down at the feminine face meeting my gaze.

"I don't think, Nightbeat, I _know_ plenty. A lot more than you do." Her wide lips curve into a smirk as she again gestures to the seat across from her.

My optics flare behind my visor as she speaks my designation, and I'm unable to stop my jaw from momentarily slacking. Glancing around cautiously, looking for signs of an ambush, I slowly sit down as requested before looking to her again, "How do you know my name?"

"Details, metal man." She waves her hand dismissively, the coy smirk still in place, "I am Fera Fatima. I am friends with the Capri Detective."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: As promised, here's the story behind Fera Fatima's creation: she's based off of the Transformers canon character known only as "Miss Fatale"; a quirky play off the term "femme fatale", a common character archetype found in crime noir stories. Fatale made her first and final appearance in the first US Transformers comic that Nightbeat and co appeared in, the Marvel issue #62, titled "Bird of Prey!". She's described as a "giant human", and stands as tall as Nightbeat. I've designed my own version of her, and will be posting up a drawing of her sometime this weekend so ya'll can have an image in your minds while you read along. X)

This chapter is a bit of a crazy one, I would even go to say it's just plain silly, but hopefully you all have fun reading it XD

Thank you to SezWho and Random117860 for your reviews!

All ya awesome Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>It's like a new world, where all the lights are brighter, the colors more brilliant, and everything sounds like a joyous laugh. Everything is comfortable and warm, and it seems like everyone's legs are swaying in-synch with the music that fades in and out like a sparkbeat. Little bubbles filled with stars float around your head, and they giggle and pop into stardust if you poke them.<p>

Siren now understands why bots drink highgrade.

The pale blue mech proceeds to leave three empty cubes sitting on the bar as he turns and clumsily sways onto the dance floor, his expression zoned out as he looks at the dancing bodies around him. He smiles and releases a bubbly giggle, perhaps at a joke only he can hear in his head. This childish sound draws the attention of several female aliens on the dance floor, their eyes darting to one another before a round of mutual smiles grow on their faces. Siren's face lights up like a flame is being held to it as he's surrounded by the slender dancers, hands brushing over his arms and helm in touches that he's not too familiar with.

I watch my young partner have his first encounter with double-X chromosome creatures from the table I'm seated at, worried in the back of my processor that they might try stealing him away. I've heard of many cases where females steal babies and raise them as their own.

Deciding that Siren's safe enough for the moment, I return my attention to my own female company, her jade eyes watching me steadily. Apparently, she met the "Capri Detective" a few months ago and has become something of a travel companion to him, even a partner in solving cases. When I asked what kind of work she and the Capri Detective do, I was a bit confused when she replied that he's a self-proclaimed bounty hunter these days.

Would my father ever go into such a field? Certainly, he could put his detective skills towards such an endeavor with ease—but would he? Being a free-lance bounty hunter is a risky and often times shady business, you can never really know just who you're working for, or if you're on the right side. Sometimes, there is no right side, and getting caught in the middle only gets you all kinds of dead.

I can't let it stick in my processor that this mystery mech claiming my father's title _is_ my father. My father's dead, they fished him outta the Iacon harbor years ago. Dead fish can't go flying around the universe catching baddies. Whatever the case, I'll still let this Fera Fatima tell me her piece, and decide whether or not she and her poser mech friend could be of any help to me.

"So how did the _Detective_ know that I would be here? I don't believe in coincidence, not in this case." I can't help it as a small frown crosses my features.

Fera is unfazed by the frown and smirks softly, "He knew that his name would eventually reach Cybertron through Megatron's Seekers, and he knew that you would be a smart boy and have ways to hear of it yourself. He knows how your mind works, Nightbeat, because you two share a kinship, you think alike. And it would appear that he was correct, hm?"

I don't like this. I don't know what it is, but there's just something that doesn't feel right. I take another glance towards Siren before looking to the woman again, "Alright, so now answer me this. Why has he waited so long to catch my attention? I've thought he was dead all these years. And why would he wanna drag me all the way out here?"

She nods lightly, understanding my questions, "He knew that it wouldn't be safe for him to come to Cybertron himself, he tells me that you would be well aware that he has many enemies on your planet. He didn't want to risk putting you into danger."

"So he draws me out into some backwater quadrant of the galaxy where I don't know anybot and can't call for help. Yeah, sounds like a great alternative. Or, better yet, a set up." I grit my teeth lightly, just about fed up with this, "Just because you know a few names doesn't convince me that you're bein' straight with me, lady, I wanna know what's really going on here."

She gives me a pout that only serves to push my temper closer to the edge, "He couldn't contact you until now because Megatron only just started bringing his soldiers into this quadrant recently. He saw the opportunity in using them to pass along his whereabouts to Cybertron, and he took it. If they hadn't come here, then chances are that you still wouldn't know he was alive. I am not lying to you, Nightbeat, the Capri Detective is real, and he is waiting for you."

First rule of detecting a lie—if they say they're not lying, then chances are high that they are. I feel my upper lip twitch into a snarl as I narrow my optics behind my visor, "If he's so giddy to catch up with me, then why isn't he here himself?"

Fera huffs and rubs her forehead lightly, "Because, it isn't _safe_ for him to be seen here, it would only put you in danger, you must believe me, Nightbeat… Don't you want to see him? What other reason do you have for being here in the first place? You must want to see him…"

"I'll keep my business to myself, Fera. If he wants to see me—" I stop in mid-sentence as I hear Siren's mouth start going off. Never a good thing.

"And we gotta be **careful**, cuz lots of **bad** guys are **lookin'** for us!" Siren drunkenly slurs, inciting a series of sympathetic baby sounds from the women surrounding him—also drawing jealous gazes from the heavy-set male population in the bar. "We're gonna find Beat's **dad**, he's a **detective** just like Beat is, and then we're gonna find a big **T-cog** that **Megatron's** lookin' for!"

Scrap. Time to go. I look to Fera, "Listen, it's been real nice chatting, Fera, but we've gotta be gettin' on our way now." Quickly I stand and start towards Siren, only to feel my gears stiffen up as a familiar trio of tall mechs suddenly comes in through the front entrance of the bar, "Oh slag."

Starscream's red optics survey the bar before landing curiously on Siren, "That one over there—that's just a child, who is he?"

Skywarp raises an optic ridge as he steps up alongside his commander, following his line of sight, "Beats me, let's go _ask_ 'im." He grins sharply and starts pushing through the crowd of patrons towards the dance floor.

I curse under my breath and look back at Fera, "You set us up!" Turning, I weave through the crowd as fast as I can before grabbing tightly onto Siren's wrist, "Time to go, loud mouth!" Pulling on him hard, I pry him away from the protesting women before a blaster shot suddenly sounds, drawing a scream from a portion of the bar goers as they simultaneous crouch to avoid injury.

"Nightbeat, what's—" Siren turns his helm and looks over at the sound of the shot before he gasps at the sight of the three Seekers, "Nightbeat, it's Starscream!"

I'm gonna beat this kid's afterburner plates raw when I get the chance.

"There—hey, it's that Nightbump kid! The other one just said his name!" Skywarp proves himself to be a lacking observer of the obvious as he raises his smoking Null Ray and starts firing into the crowd of patrons, shrill cries filling the air as organic tissue burns and lights shatter.

I can hear Starscream's voice shriek through the chaos, "After him! Don't let him get away!"

I force my way through the panicking aliens, keeping my hold on Siren's arm as I guide him to the back of the bar, kicking open a door that leads into what must be the owner's office. I barricade the door with a desk before going to a window and shatter it with a chair, lifting Siren by his hips and pushing him through the escape route once the glass is cleared away. In his drunkard state, he obviously wasn't ready for such a jump, and proceeds to tumble helm-over-peds into the alleyway outside. Just as I'm hopping out the window myself, I release a short yelp as a Null Ray blasts through the blocked door and singes the side of my audio receptor.

Gathering Siren up onto his peds, I bolt down the alleyway with him, looking for shelter; there's no way we would survive out in the open against three flyers. Just as we turn a corner, I jolt when a hand shoots out of the shadows and grabs onto my shoulder, pulling us both through a dark doorway into an empty storage room. I raise my fist to fight off whoever it is that's holding onto me before blinking, "Fera!"

"Keep your voice down, metal man." Her sharp eyes of emerald are angry for a moment before she quiets down, all three of us going still as the sounds of jet turbines fill the air outside the doorway. She gives a sigh of relief as the sounds fade before she looks to me, "Listen, I know that you've got your doubts, but there's no more time to waste. You and your friend need to get out of Nexus, the Decepticons are going to have this place locked down in a matter of hours, and you'll be 'slagged' if you're still here."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" I brush her hand off of my shoulder with a bitter frown.

"I did not set you up, Nightbeat, the Decepticons probably caught onto your trail on their own. I'm guessing you used their spacebridge? Well, here's some news—they can detect and track ships that pass through it."

I feel my faceplates heat up in embarrassment. I should've been able to guess as much myself, but I was sloppy, and both Siren and I almost paid the price for it. "Fine. Suggestions, then?" I release a heavy vent of air as I catch my breath, glancing to Siren to check that he's alright.

"Take this." She pushes a small tracker device into my hand, a small red light on it turning on when she presses it, "This way, he can come to you. You and your friend need to just find a place to lie low, so whatever little escapade you were planning will have to wait."

"Where are we supposed to 'lie low'?"

"Find a moon colony, they're not listed on the maps, so those fly boys that are looking for you won't catch on in time to reach you before the Detective does. That is all I can do for you, now disappear." Turning, she runs the other way down the alley, leaving us to our own fate.

We remain in the empty storage room for a while, keeping close tabs on the sounds we hear outside, jets passing overhead every so often. I keep an even closer tab on Siren's condition as he groans quietly, recovering from his first highgrade experience. Eventually, I decide it's been long enough, and it's time to make our move.

"C'mon, Si, you can sleep once we get to the ship." I speak quietly to him so his audios don't ring, knowing he's probably suffering from a massive processor ache. Helping him up, I give him a reassuring pat on the back before peering out the doorway, "Okay, let's move."

I subspace the tracker that Fera gave us, knowing that I should probably throw it away. A part of me is hoping that she's telling us the truth, that we can trust her. The other part is warning me to stay away. Moving through the metropolis space station, I curse under my breath when I see one of the three Seekers guarding the elevators leading to the docking bay. We're gonna have to find another way down.

This isn't a club or warehouse on Cybertron, though. Taking an unconventional route through the inner workings of this place could end in us being shot out into space or being crushed by the alien machinery running the station, or worse. I'm hesitant to find an alternate way down, to say the least; there are just too many factors that I'm not privy to.

Suddenly, my audio receptors perk up as they pick up high-frequency sound waves vibrating in the air. Turning my helm, I find the source to be a group of chatting female aliens—the same ones that had been adoring Siren in the bar. It's a long shot, but it just might be the only way.

I approach the flock of women as they stop outside another bar, bringing Siren along with me. The women turn their heads and all take on a wide-eyed look of concern as they see the exhausted state Siren is in. I speak with a sweet tone and put up a helpless child act, "Excuse me, we're trying to get to our ship, but we need help getting past the bad bot guarding the elevators…"

The females release a typhoon of coos and adoring whimpers as they encircle us and converse amongst themselves. I can only hope they understood what I said—as they all appear to be speaking in some alien tongue I've never heard before. I force myself to keep still as several slender hands cup and stroke my cheeks, ignoring the urge to bite them, while Siren seems to be quite receptive to the fondling. I'm about to try rephrasing my request with the addition of universal hand gestures to get my point across when the females quiet down, whispering to one another as they glance towards the elevators. So maybe they do understand.

I can't protest as they suddenly pull us both into an alleyway, my jaw going slack as they start pulling off excess layers of their clothing, scarves and the like. I'm about to take Siren and run for the hills, thinking we're about to have too close of an encounter with these women before pausing as they start wrapping the layers of fabric around us.

Oh no. Please no. Don't let this be what I think it is. I wanna plug my audio receptors as I hear Siren letting out drunken giggles as he's twirled around while the women wrap a long shall over him.

There isn't a chance to defend my mechlihood against the tittering creatures before I find both myself and my partner covered helm-to-ped in a range of brightly colored hodge-podge fabrics. This isn't gonna work. There's no way this could work. Who could be stupid enough to fall for this?

Before I can further muse over just how the Seekers are going to kill us after laughing hysterically at our pitiful get-up, the women take our hands and lead us straight towards the elevators, chatting casually with one another and patting our helms every now and then like they're our mothers. I cringe as the Seeker standing sentry looks our way curiously—and suddenly, I start to think that maybe we could pull this off. If it was any other Seeker than the one standing before us, we would've been toast.

Skywarp raises an optic ridge as the strange organic creatures with bouncy portions and squeaky voices trot past him before he looks down at the strange, bulky pair of children they're walking with. He gives a shiver and grimaces, "Ugh, must be one a' those organic diseases…"

The moment we step into the elevators, I release a long vent of air that I hadn't realized I was holding, "I can't believe that worked…"

Siren looks to me with dazed optics, "Hey, are we going home with them?"

I rub my optics, "No, Siren, they just helped us get past that 'Con. No more talking until you're sober, 'kay?" I cringe as the women in the elevator with us give high-toned giggles, again engaging in the fondling of our faces and helms. Primus, Siren's the one who's had too much to drink, yet I'm the only one feeling nauseous. With a gruff sigh, I quickly shimmy out of the flower-scented garments, feeling like they're suffocating me. My temper only draws more cooing from the women.

It's official. I think I've discovered a life form that surpasses Megatron in the fear factor department.

As the elevator comes to a stop on the docking bay level, I look up at the soft-faced creatures and give them a grateful smile, "Thank you for your help, you really saved our afterburners." I tug Siren free of their grasping hands, unraveling him from his cocoon of feminine articles before stepping out of the elevator. My optics give a long roll as Siren waves goodbye to his adoring worshipers before he follows after me.

"Weren't they nice?"

"I thought I said no talking until you were sober. I meant it." I huff and start through the entrance hall towards the bay our ship is parked in before I'm suddenly tackled down to the floor by my partner, "Hey!"

My angry shout, however, is put on hold as a blaster shot suddenly hits the wall. Turning over and shifting onto my knees with a hold on Siren's arm, my optics widen at the sight of a tall, red and white Seeker wearing an amused sneer.

"The little Capri child, Nightbeat. My, how you've matured... How unfortunate that I have to put a stunt in your growth." Starscream's voice is laced with sadistic glee as he raises his Null Ray to us.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Bit of a late posting today, I know I usually put up new chapters earlier in the afternoon XD; And alas, I didn't have time to get Fera's picture up on my DA profile yet, but she'll be there soon for ya'll.

Sez, I'm glad you enjoyed my craziness last chapter, it was a fun one to write XD

font note - when entire dialogue lines are written in italics, it means it's part of a flashback.

To my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, please Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Prowl, you brought him back from Kaon."<em>

Minerva's desperate voice still lingers in Prowl's central processing unit as he passes down the long hall of the brig in the Iacon Enforcer Department.

"_You stood up against the powers that meant to snuff him out of existence, the ones that thought they could use their entitlement to take him away for their own…"_

Her optics had been sharp and intense, all of their heated determination focused on him when they had met in front of the Hall of Records to speak. She's counting on him. She understands that this time, she has absolutely no power to reach her son; not by a train to Kaon, not by the merit of her own peds or wheels. She also remembers the promise that Prowl gave to her son at the funeral of the child's father.

Part of that promise was to protect.

Prowl is aware that he's taking a lot of blind chances in this, that there are a lot of factors that he doesn't know of. For starters, there's something that gives Sentinel Prime the justification to dismiss Nightbeat and Siren's disappearance. While Sentinel has always been a difficult mech to deal with, Prowl has learned how to coax the Prime into doing what needs to be done. This time is different, though, as Prowl couldn't get the other mech to budge an inch when they last spoke. If word of this ever got out to the media bots, Sentinel Prime's reputation would be sent straight to the Pit; there's something greater at risk for the Prime, it's the only explanation.

Whatever the reasoning, it won't stand in Prowl's way of getting those boys and bringing them home. Thus, the Praxian has decided to take matters into his own hands; and when he sets out to accomplish something, it is planned with the finest of precision and calculated for every percentage error.

With a Dinobot in the equation, however, that percentage is quite substantial.

Barricade's electric yellow optics are keenly set on the Praxian's form as it passes by his cell and proceeds to stop in front of the Dinobot's. He can't help but smirk to himself, knowing already that the Enforcer is here to report his failure in obtaining a ship for the other. Prowl is too clean cut, even if he is conspiring with an imprisoned Dinobot, and Barricade is all too aware of how to manipulate his kind. The Praxian will want things to be done on a hush-hush level, with a clean point of entry and an unmarked finish. He'll never get a space-worthy ship trying to do things in a justly manner.

Barricade waits and listens, preparing the hook, line, and sinker.

"You're not gonna get either of us far, tryin' to find a ship _waiting _for ya in the Department. They got ships, but they ain't gonna tell you about 'em. Cybertron's on lockdown, they think they got all the cards to keep it that way." Grimlock's voice is bored and matter-of-factly.

Prowl's mouth tightens into a hard line as he frowns at the walls of Grimlock's cell in thought, "And yet, two boys who haven't even grown tall enough to reach the top shelf have managed to get a hold of one."

"They got their ship built from scratch, had it made without anybot on the outside knowing it was there. Must've cost a Pit of credits."

Prowl pauses before glancing off, "Yes, I've a feeling I know where Nightbeat _found_ such funds…"

"You're gonna have to cut the scout's honor slag, there's no clean way to do this."

Prowl looks up at Grimlock's unsettling visage before blinking when a low chuckling sounds from a few cells down. He frowns and turns his helm, looking towards the other imprisoned Gladiator, "You think this is just a joke, don't you, Barricade?"

Barricade smiles and rolls his helm around to stretch his stiff neck cables, "Not a joke, _Prowler_. A game, maybe." Again he chuckles as he watches the fury cross over the upright mech's faceplates, "And whether you like it or not, I'm the best bet that you've got. I know where to get a ship."

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><p>"You insufferable <em>brats!<em> I'm going to tear off your limbs and boot your remains into space!" Starscream shrieks as he stumbles backwards, holding his hands frantically over his burning optics and audio receptors.

I glance to Siren and find that he had the same idea as me, having the two sonic pistols on the sides of his helm rotated towards the Seeker while my photon pistols are similarly positioned. Taking our chance, I grab Siren by his arm and run across the entrance hall of the space station and make towards our ship in the docking bay. As I figured, we don't make it all the way, as we're sent diving behind a stack of shipping crates with Null Ray blasts singing the heels of our peds.

Starscream's face is contorted into a livid promise of revenge as he fires aimlessly, his optical receptors burnt out by my photon blasts, audio receptors ringing from Siren's sonic screams. Despite the Seeker's lack of visual and audio intake, I've no doubt that he's still tracking our movements through other means; flyers are built to maneuver and strike with the finest of precision, there's hardly an aspect of their target's energy output that they can't detect.

This, in turn, explains how it is that the infuriated Seeker is still making pretty close pot shots at us even as we stay low behind our cover.

My sparkbeat is up at least fivefold as I look around the high ceiling of the circular docking bay, searching for some way to get the upper hand in this situation. If we take too long, then Starscream's lackeys will show up and then we'll be finished for sure.

Wait. This is a docking bay. Docking bays have fuel pumps for the ships. My optics dart around until I pinpoint a fuel line running along the edge of the separate bays, smaller lines running down them to connect to the fuel pumps where the ships would be parked. I tell Siren to keep his helm down as my optics follow the main fuel line, and I feel my spark jump up my throat as I find that it crawls up along the wall—right behind Starscream.

Taking in a deep breath and holding it, I stand up from behind my cover and quickly take aim before shooting at the line. I duck again as Starscream turns his vengeful Null Rays on me, and wait for the big boom.

I frown. Where's the big boom? I peek around the crates and curse when I find that not even a drop of fuel has left the metal pipe, despite the gaping hole now in it. What?

Then it hits me—of course! The fuel lines connecting to the pumps wouldn't have the volatile liquid just sitting in them constantly, there must be a main reserve somewhere that feeds the pipes when they're in use to reduce the risk of the whole place going up in flames should one line get struck the wrong way.

I'll have to locate the reserve on the run, however, as I find that the barrage of blasts has come to a cease; only to be replaced by the foreboding sound of Starscream's peds clicking across the floor towards the crates we're crouched behind. Looking to Siren, I gesture for him to follow me before we both stand and sprint away from the crates just as Starscream kicks them over.

"Oh how they _scurry _like the rats they are!" Starscream fires his weapons in the direction of our moving energy signatures, following the slightest trail of excited particles left behind in the wake of our path.

I keep my optics directed along the wall, following the main fuel line until I see the large tank planted at the end of it. Now I just have to draw Starscream closer, and we'll have our trap set. Taking a glance back to see how close the pursuing Seeker is, my optics widen when I find him to be tinkering with his Null Ray, and get a very bad feeling when the muzzle of it begins giving off an eerie, purple glow.

"Siren, down!" I hold onto his arm and pull him down with me as I use my forward momentum to drop onto my hip and skid across the floor just as Starscream fires off his modified weapon—but my spark freezes up in my chest when I hear Siren cry out. I quickly hook an arm around Siren's chest and drag him behind another set of stacked crates on the dock, shuddering as the sounds of his pained whines mix with Starscream's malicious cackling. "Siren, where's it hurt?"

I pause when I find the answer for myself, and gently lift his wounded hand, a dark purple stone lodged into the back of it and piercing through his palm.

The dark stones. Megatron's soldiers have weaponized them.

I don't know what kind of effect it's going to have on Siren, piercing through his plating and probably already entering his energon lines. I can't focus on it right now, though, or else we'll both be scrapped. Placing Siren's hand gently on his chest, I look into his optics, "Just sit tight, Siren, I'm gonna get us out of here."

"Oh, I don't think you'll be so lucky this time, Capri boy, but I'm ever amused to watch you _try_." Starscream has slowed down to a casual, savoring pace as he saunters towards us, his optics flickering as they begin to reboot themselves.

Looking over to the reserve tank, I do my best to count Starscream's ped steps, tightening my grip on my drawn blaster. When the moment comes, I roll to the side of the crates and fire at the tank, cursing under my breath when the hull of it proves to be too thick to penetrate. Adjusting my aim, I fire at the lever of the tank's valve, watching as fuel spills out across the floor before yelping and taking cover again as Starscream sprays another round of blasts my way.

"You could use to work on your _aim_, child." Starscream cackles as he walks clear of the spilling fuel, deciding to take his time in finishing us off apparently. It must be a common OCD among Decepticons to risk losing their prey in trade for a few moments of "delicious" revenge.

Now all I have to do is find a way to ignite that fuel, and that tank will go up like a fireworks show. I cautiously peak around the crates to take aim, but flinch as I nearly get my face shot off as a result. There's no way I'm gonna get a shot at the spilt fuel, not with Starscream watching our cover so closely.

My processor then whirrs into action, however, when I catch sight of the docking bay's gravity generator control panel up ahead—and finally a plan pulls together. The chances of it lining up and playing out to our advantage are slim, but what other options are left? Taking my chance, I bolt forward, keeping close to the maze of crates to cover myself before I slap the safety shut off on the panel.

Starscream raises his optic ridges in surprise at the sudden lack of grounded stability and slowly floats up away from the ground, but then grins sharply, "You think you can escape a _Seeker_ by turning off the gravity? And here I was under the impression that you would prove to be as clever a rat as your _father_."

I push off of the wall near the panel and quickly dart to Siren's side, catching a hold of his shoulder before I hold him close to myself in preparation for what comes next. On cue with my plan, the spilt fuel from the tank floats up around Starscream just as he powers up his jet boosters to fly towards us, the flames of which light up the volatile liquid, following a trail reaching the valve of the tank. Starscream releases an incredulous shriek as a he's surrounded by the fire, its form taking a spherical shape due to the lack of gravity, before the tank explodes in a powerful blast; a shockwave moving through the oxygen-rich enclosure of the docking bay.

I hold on tightly to Siren as we're sent flying away from the core of the explosion and catch onto a pipe in the ceiling. Just as quickly as the flames ignited, they extinguish themselves in the zero-gravity environment. I don't waste time in figuring out where Starscream's charred chassis is—if even that much of it survived— and push away from the ceiling, floating through the circular bay before reaching the _Veilleur_.

Moving quickly, I strap Siren into his seat once inside our ship, looking to him in concern as his optics dim and his face goes cold. I look to his hand and bite my lip nervously before finding a medical kit in a storage compartment in the floor of the ship, taking out a set of medical pliers.

"Siren… this is gonna hurt." I hold optic contact with him for a moment as he can barely nod in response before I tighten the teeth of the pliers around the stone lodged into his hand and pull.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Things are speeding up, I'm excited to start chipping into the faster-paced events that I've got planned for ya'll. X) The italicized bits in this chapter are meant to be flashbacks, I thought I'd start exploring some history between our bots.

Haha Sez, I got a kick out of your comment for the last chapter XD poor baby, indeed. And how could I resist making Barricade at least a little develish here and there lD

Ya'll know I love to hear from you to know what you'd like to see more of, don't forget that comments can be made anonymously if you don't have an account here. ^_^

My vonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p><strong><em>Then.<em>**

_It wasn't until I heard a quiet hiccup that I stopped and turned to look back at my follower. The kid had been following me all over Capri since morning, I'd only seen him a few times now. He was the new kid in the sector, and he was tiny. Too tiny to play with, and too tiny to keep up with me; or, so I'd thought. _

_I turned away from my current course along the alleyway and walked over to the smaller sparkling, who was sitting on the ground with a bright pink scrape on his knee. That's the thing about the ones as little as him, they tend to fall down a lot; they don't got legs strong enough to carry them around too long. I remembered when I was that age, I was always climbing up anything I could get leverage on; drove my mom nuts. Maybe this kid was a climber, too; he's certainly got the right kind of boldness, following me around everywhere…_

_The kid was startled when I knelt by him, turning a large set of bright red optics up to look at me, small lines of coolant liquid running down his pale cheeks. It was clear to see he was embarrassed, maybe he even thought I wasn't aware that he'd been following me this whole time. I gently brushed his hand away from his knee to take a look at the scrape._

"'_S just a scratch, kid. No bot ever died from a scratch." I give him a smirk, "Except, maybe, a bug."_

_He nodded a little and wiped his cheeks, a small smile growing on his mouth._

"_What's your name, kid?" I extended my hand to him and helped him up, brushing the dirt off his legs a bit, babying him somewhat out of instinct, before looking to his optics again._

"_Siren..." His voice was as small as he was. I knew we'd have to work on that._

**Now.**

There's a cold gathering of condensation on the back of my neck plates as I steer the _Veilleur_ through a cluster of drifting asteroids, searching for a moon that shows signs of life. I take a quick glance to the younger mech beside me in the co-pilot seat, feeling my tanks twist every time a small groan leaves his vocalizer. I've been trying to keep him talking, but at some point, he just slipped out of awareness.

Siren's wounded hand hangs limply over the edge of the armrest, and even though the dark shard has been removed, it doesn't look like it's getting any better. Dark, glowing veins of purple have been slowly spreading around the wound throughout the rest of his hand—and I've no idea what to do about it. I'm not a medic. I've never even heard of anything like what's happening to his hand.

I'd take him back to Cybertron, but chances are that the Decepticons are guarding the spacebridge at this point. Our only chance is to find a settlement or something on one of these moons, and hope to Primus that they'll be able to help.

I'm scared. I'm scared that he's going to die. I don't know what to do. This isn't a scrape or a bump. What am I gonna do if he dies?

I can't think about that. I have to do everything that I can for him, and that means staying focused on the task at hand. I glance to the tracker device that Fera gave me, watching for a moment as the red light on it flashes periodically.

_Now would be a great time for you to decide to show up, Dad. _

I don't know how many times that thought has passed through my processor since he died. I always felt like he was never really dead, as if he was just gonna walk through the front door one day and give some wild explanation. Maybe he was on a secret mission, and had to fake his death to keep me and Mom safe. Maybe it was a faceless, unidentifiable body that they fished out of the Iacon Harbor. I wouldn't know, I didn't get to see it for myself.

My reminiscing is put on hold as an alert chime suddenly sounds, drawing my attention to the HUD holograph displayed across the windshield. A small blue dot indicating our ship is show on the map display—followed by an unidentified, red dot. I glance to the tracker device again—could it be him? Something tells me not to take the chance of pulling over to see, though, and instead I open the ship's comlink channel to receive any messages the other ship may wish to send.

There's a moment of intense silence, pierced only by the static coming through the com speakers. I look over to Siren, nausea rolling through my chassis when I see how still he's become. In the next moment, however, the ship is suddenly filled with a horrible scream—wait, not a scream— that was an explosion! I'm thrust forward violently in my seat before the safety straps tighten around my chest and hips, knocking the air out of my intakes before I slam back against the seat again. I online my optics after finding I've clenched them shut, and gasp sharply at the sight of smoke and sparks filling the ship.

We've been hit! They're shooting at us!

I grab onto the control column and dart my fingers across the engine controls to give us a boost to escape our attacker, cursing as warning screens flash over the HUD. The engines are shot! I look up to the HUD once more as an impact warning flashes and sounds an alarm, holding my breath before my attention is pulled over to the bot beside me as he stirs.

"Nightbeat…?"

His optics stain the translucent clouds of smoke floating near his helm red as he looks over at me, hardly lucid enough to understand what's going on around him. I online my vocalizer to speak to him, but I'm cut off as a second explosion strikes the roof of the ship—completely tearing it off and exposing us to the cold void outside. I hear something of an animalistic scream leave my vocalizer as Siren's chair is suddenly lifted from the floor of the cockpit and jettisoned out of the ship.

"**SIREN!"**

I grab a hold of the navigation controls as loose objects around me are sucked out of the open hull into space, and look up when I hear a distant shout. My spark lunges in my chest compartment when I see that a single, thick cable from back of Siren's seat is still connected to the floor of the ship, keeping him suspended just beyond the hull. He looks to be screaming something out, but I can't understand what—if it's even words he's letting out.

Moving quickly, I shut off the air supply of the ship so that it doesn't keep sending its force out into the void beyond the hull, but blink in confusion when Siren still seems to be getting pulled against the cable. With no more air being sucked out of the ship, there shouldn't be anything to create such a force, he should just be floating in zero-gravity—unless…

Turning my helm to the windshield, I cry out in curses when I find that our battered ship is being pulled towards one of the many moons scattering the abyss, its gravitational force trying to pry Siren free from his lifeline to the ship. I have to get him back into the ship before we enter the atmosphere, or he'll surely be burned alive—but how? I could climb along the length of the cable holding onto his chair, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to fight the forces pulling at him _and_ carry him back into the ship.

Then I remember—the ejection protocols! Mirage spared no expenses when it came to safety, and had each of the seats in this ship installed with self-containing, ejection pods. I look up at Siren, knowing he's unaware of this feature. I'll have to do it myself.

Unbuckling myself from my seat, I clench my teeth and steel myself before releasing the armrests and heave myself towards the long cable connecting to Siren's seat, grabbing a tight hold of it. Wrapping my legs around the cable, I ease my grip and slide up to Siren's chair, looking to his optics. I try to tell him he's going to be okay, but he can't hear me. Reaching to the side of his seat, I punch the button to initiate the protocols. I almost lose my hold on the cable as Siren's chair is suddenly cut away from it, his face lighting up with horror before he and the entire chair are encased in a life pod that folds out and around it from the inner compartments of the chair where it was being stored.

I watch for a moment as the pod safely enters the moon's atmosphere before remembering that now _I'm_ the one hanging on for dear life. Tightening my hold on the cable, I use all the strength I've got left to start pulling myself back down into the cockpit. Just as I'm re-entering the hull, I catch a brief glimpse of the ship that's shot us down in the distance, and my chassis goes numb. The ship is large and ominous, deep blood red with sharp angles that give off a hostile, merciless air.

It could be Decepticon. Or, it could be Fera Fatima. Either way, it's time to abandon ship.

My gears cringe as I reach out for the armrest of my chair before releasing the cable and pulling myself to sit, strapping myself in. Looking up at the approaching moon, I strike the ejection button just as the hull of the ship begins glowing with heat from the atmosphere. The canopy of the pod unfolds and curves around the seat, locking into position and safely isolating me from the dangerous elements before the bottom of the seat releases from the floor of the cockpit. I feel my chassis seize up as the pod pierces through what's left of the ship's roof, getting knocked around a bit before feeling an intense heat start to seep in.

The ride down towards the moon is a harrowing experience, the pod a tight space with zero visibility of what's outside, my only source of light the faint, golden glow of my own visor and optics. I release a short, startled grunt as the pod makes impact with what I'm hoping is the surface of the moon. The ride isn't over quiet yet, though, as I'm tossed around inside the pod against the safety straps; I must be rolling down a hill or something. Then—the feeling of weightlessness again fills the pod, I must be falling again. The second impact is solid and final, and I'm left dazed as my helm slams back against the headrest of the chair, everything still now.

I'm so tired. I could slip into sleep mode and stay there forever.

Feeling a little pity for myself, I let out a short groan before pulling myself together. I can go cry in a corner when this is all done, right now I need to get my aft moving and go find Siren.

I must've hit my helm harder than I thought, as the world seems to spin when I attempt sitting up, unable to orient myself with no means of seeing outside the blacked-out pod. My helm falls back down against the chair as I offline my optics, feeling myself starting to get antsy in this closely confined space, realizing that I'm soaked in condensation.

Slowly, everything goes black.

"_Hey, what's 's matter with you? Why you got dirt on your face?"_

_Siren looked up at me, sniffing as tears ran down his dirtied cheeks, gingerly holding the dented-up side of his arm, "The bigger kids at the end of the street beat me up, 'n they called me a smidget…"_

"_What kids at the end of the street? The yellow 'n red ones?"_

"_Uh huh." He lowered his helm as his lower lip quivered._

_I frowned deeply. Who would pick on a little kid like this one? He was nothing but smiles 'n innocent questions. "Stay here, Siren."_

"_What're you gonna do?" He looked up at me, a bit startled._

"_I'm gonna show 'em not to mess with you. No bot touches ya, got it?"_


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Bit of a short chapter this week, but I think there's a good chunk of information crammed in, so I didn't want to make it too long. And yes, I feel very bad for what I've done to Siren, it's been keeping me up at night XD; that's kind of the interesting thing about writing TF stories though; the characters are so sturdy and can survive things that would off most of us in reality.

SezWho and TransformersLuvr, thank you for your comments, I'm always all grins when I read your reactions, pure joy! :D

To mah wonderful Readers and Reveiwers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>Frag, it's hot in here.<p>

I gotta online my optics.

Wait, they are online, it's just too fraggin' dark in this pod.

My sparkbeat speeds up in anxiety as my hands blindly fumble around in the confined space, searching for the release hatch to get me out of this Pit-in-a-pod. My entire chassis is drenched in clear coolant that's seeped through the seams of my plating in an attempt to keep my systems from overheating. If anything, it only makes me feel even more smothered.

A groan of pleasure sputters from my dry vocalizer as the hatch of the pod suddenly springs off, fresh air rushing over my frame and evaporating the coolant coating it. The nice breeze, however, is short lived as a blazing heat settles in its place. Pushing myself out of the pod, I'm a bit startled when I land on something—soft? Burning hot, that's for sure, but soft…

"What the frag is this stuff…?" I take a moment to run my hand through the strange, granular substance that appears to be covering the entire surface of this moon for as far as I can see. I pinch some of it in my fingers, and realize that it's actually a collection of tiny rocks—this must be what's called "sand" on alien planets, the result of winds weathering larger rocks. No sand on Cybertron, a world made entirely of metals and the like, no rocky minerals to be found there; but it is similar in texture to the rust dunes of the Badlands, the closest thing to a "desert" region that Cybertron has to offer.

I'm getting distracted.

Lifting myself onto my peds, I look over my escape pod and rummage for whatever I can find that may be of use, particularly the medical kit. Looking out over the horizon, I find that I've no idea which way to go, where Siren might be. Attempts to hail his comlink fail, and a hard, cold knot builds in my core.

I then pause and look up, taking note of the direction that the two suns in the sky are in. West, the direction that we'd been flying in respects to the moon's poles before we were hit. That means Siren's somewhere in the East, away from the suns. With a fresh rush of adrenaline pumping through my energon lines, I turn and start eastward, not even bothering to try my alt-form on this malleable terrain.

Who shot us down? And for what purpose? That ship had "wicked" written all over it, it looked like something out of a kid's nightmare. I try to envision the glimpse I'd taken of it, searching for something that would give a clue as to what kind of ship it was, who it could've belonged to. I remember that there were bold, white hieroglyphs along the side of the dark red hull, but it wasn't anything I recognized.

Fera Fatima. She's the only one that could've found us so soon after we'd left Nexus Station. She's the one that gave us the tracking device… unless. Unless someone else was able to pick up the device's signal and track it, but they would have to be looking for it, they would have to know that there was something to be found.

I suppose it could've been a Decepticon, too. But, again, how could anyone else besides Fera know about the tracking signal? Maybe there's something I'm just missing. Either way, one thing is for certain; things have taken a very bad turn. No ship, no clue where we are, several unknown forces are trying to kill us, and Siren's…

Don't die on me, Siren. I've been stubborn, but I've figured it out; I can't do this alone.

And I can't lose my closest friend.

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><p>Strange sounds, alien sounds. Soothing, varying in high and low tones, evenly dispersed, clashing in a harmonious opus.<p>

Siren's not sure he's ever heard anything so beautiful, especially with his notoriously poor audio receptors.

Slowly, he onlines his optics, and stares blankly for a moment at golden light that's pouring in through translucent, green shapes suspended upon branches of tall, organic structures. Trees. He never thought something as simple as what was described in his textbook of alien worlds could be so appeasing to the optics.

Wait, where is he, again?

A sudden gasp leaves the pale blue mech's vocalizer as a face leans into his view, looking down at him, "**W-Who are you!"**

"Woah, sheesh!" The face jerks backwards out of Siren's sight upon being thwarted by his startled question. Hesitantly, the face leans back into Siren's view, now wearing a bit of a frown, "Keep it down, would you? Are you _trying_ to get us both cooked?"

Cooked? What an odd way to use the word. Cooked… Wait, he's not talking about cannibals, is he? Frag, Siren always feared that he would die via cannibalism. Could there be a more horrible way to go?

"**I-I don't wanna be eaten—!" **Siren's paranoia-induced cry is cut short as a hand slaps over his mouth, muffling his protests.

"Well you're gonna get your _throat_ slit if you don't keep it down!" The face glances around their surroundings before again looking down at Siren, "Listen, I'm gonna do what I can to help you, okay? You're in really bad shape…"

Siren blinks his optical receptors a few times as his vision begins to clear, giving him a better picture of who he's dealing with. A look of surprise comes to his face when he finds the unfamiliar visage to belong to a mech—a Cybertronian, by the looks of it though there's something very different about his armor. The mech has a bright red helm encasing a youthful face, sharp optics protected by a translucent, turquoise visor.

Wait. _Where_ is he, again? Siren's having trouble recalling how he got here… the ship! They were shot down, and Nightbeat—_Nightbeat!_

"**My friend, he's—!" **Again, a hand slaps over his mouth.

"Yeah, I saw a second pod go down out in the West, but it's a ways away. I can go look for him, but first we've gotta get you fixed up, okay? We gotta be quick about it, too, we're gonna get found if we stay here." The mech suddenly brandishes a long, curved energon blade.

Siren jolts and struggles against the hand over his mouth, optics widening as the hand shifts and holds down his wrist, "**Wait—!"**

The mech looks to Siren's optics, "If you don't lose this infected hand here, it's gonna spread up your arm and eventually make it to your spark. I've seen this before, and the end result ain't pretty if you just leave it. It's gotta go."

Siren's good hand darts up and grips onto the stranger's arm, optics flaring before he releases a sharp cry.

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><p>Drifting far beyond the moon where its pilots were expelled, the <em>Veilleur <em>is joined by a second, larger ship. A connecting bridge extends from the second ship, keeping the _Veilleur_ firmly in place as a lone figure passes across it and into the battered ship. A set of bright golden optics light up in the abandoned ship, observing the damage to the remnants of the roof, taking note of the missing pilot and co-pilot seats.

Fera Fatima turns her head and looks over as a tall mech in dark blue armor briskly enters the cockpit of the sleek, space-faring _Monacus, _keeping the ship steady while it's connected to the abandoned _Veilleur. _Her emerald green eyes watch carefully as the mech's face contorts in a look of rage, "So what do we do n—"

"You said there were no other 'Cons besides the Seekers at Nexus, you said you scanned the docks!" The mech's voice reverberates in Fera's chest.

Fera frowns lightly as she's interrupted, "That doesn't mean there couldn't have been more waiting elsewhere. They took the spacebridge, Megatron knew that they were here, and he knew where to send his bots to start looking."

The mech glares at the organic woman for a moment before turning his helm away, quiet as he composes himself. He looks to her again, "There were two seats missing from the ship. It doesn't look like the damage was extensive enough to have ripped both out—I think they may have had some kind of ejection pods installed, from the looks of the base structures the seats were on."

"Then they could be alive." Fera's eyes light up with hope, "How do we find them, though? They could've landed on any of these moons, if they even landed at all…"

"We'll track the ship's ion trail, see where it came from, where it's been since leaving Nexus." The dark blue mech releases a heavy vent of air, optic ridges furrowing as he glances out one of the port holes to the dead floating _Veilleur_ outside.

Fera watches the mech quietly for a moment before speaking in a reassuring, gentle voice, "We're going to find them. I met Nightbeat myself, I know he's smart enough to keep both himself and his friend alive. I won't let you lose him."

Golden optics turn to connect with emerald eyes, a partnership between them being tested for a moment before the mech replies, "If he's anything like his mother, he won't go down so easily."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I hope everyone's enjoying their Summer/Winter (depending what side of the globe ya'll are on). I'll be gone for most of next week (but will be back on Friday to post as usual), but after next week I think I'm going to try posting twice a week, it's felt like ages since I posted last Friday, and I don't wanna keep ya'll waiting that long XD

SezWho, I almost popped a lung when I read your comment, "The trees! Look in the trees, Nightbeat!" XD I'm sorry if I cause anxiety or distress with my cliffhangers lD; And I'm sure Siren would appreciate the hug XD

Please Enjoy and Review!

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><p>"<em>Whether you like it or not, I'm the best bet that you've got. I know where to get a ship."<em>

This may be the most imprudent move that he's ever made in the entirety of his lifespan. Prowl begins to question his sanity as he quietly passes down the long hallway of the Department's brig, shoulders set as he approaches his target.

"You're gonna end up dead, and I'm gonna be stuck in here for eons." Grimlock's voice growls out from his cell, steam passing through the bars from his armored muzzle. A pale blue outline of moonlight from the cell window silhouettes the massive Cybertronian's form, his red visor piercing through the shadows of his face.

Prowl shoots a glance at the Dinobot, "You were the one that was telling me that this couldn't be done in a _cleanly_ manner. This may be the only opportunity that passes our way, and we certainly can't waste anymore time just _waiting_ for another."

A low chuckle comes from another cell across the way, "The good cop points out an important factor, Grimmy… _Time_ is the last thing that a pair of brats like those two has where they've gone, and it wouldn't surprise me for a nano-klik if they've already been diced up into Doriya chow."

Prowl frowns sharply and looks into the other cell, "I'd recommend you try not to make me rethink my decision, Barricade. Don't think that you'll have the opportunity to pull something _cute_ out there, you're going to be just as confined as you are in here; no functional comlink, no weapons, and you'll be sporting the latest upgrade of stasis cuffs."

Grimlock scoffs from his cell, "Don't forget what you're dealing with, Prowl. Megatron doesn't take common _thugs_ into his inner circle. You're gonna need backup t' handle him."

Barricade smirks, "Aw, see I always knew you thought highly of me, Dino-dog…"

Prowl interrupts Grimlock's vexed growl and looks to the towering mech, "If what you're insinuating is that I take _you_ along, then I'm afraid you'll have to keep dreaming. The last thing I need is to be looking after _two_ lowlifes at once, I'd rather not put myself in any further jeopardy than is absolutely necessary. And, no, I won't be going alone with Barricade, either. I've got somebot I can trust tagging along…"

As if on cue, a new set of ped steps sounds in the brig, approaching the Enforcer and prisoners before coming to a stop alongside Prowl. Grimlock sniffs the air and releases a low, rolling gurgle from his throat, sensing something off about the newcomer.

Barricade's optics momentarily light up like it's his creation day.

Makeshift glances to his Decepticon comrade, currently under his guise of the over-excelling Enforcer known as Downshift.

"This is Downshift, my right-hand mech. He's been briefed on the situation and has kept it on the DL. I'm more than confident that he will be all the extra assistance that I'll require for this." Prowl gestures to the other Enforcer.

Barricade lets an easy chuckle roll out of his vocalizer, "The more the merrier."

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><p>Siren's optics are dim for a moment as they flicker online, his intakes strained from the rapid vents of air his internal repair systems have required to keep from overheating. A light cough from him catches the attention of his host, the red-armored mech walking over and kneeling down by him.<p>

"You've been out for a few hours, I was starting to worry you wouldn't wake up…" the mech whispers, looking down at the soldered stub where Siren's hand had been removed.

Siren cringes a little as the stump of his wrist throbs, "Where are we? What is this place?" His red optics scan over the dark surroundings of stone, the sound of water drops falling echoing in the distance.

"This is just about the only place that hasn't been found yet on this moon. 'S just a little cave, nothin' special."

The red mech's words are processed for a moment before Siren curiously looks up at him, "What do you mean the only place that hasn't been found? Who hasn't it been found by?"

The other mech puffs, "Hate to break it to ya, kid, but we ain't alone out here. And, yeah, in this case, it's a bad thing. There's an encampment of slave traders to the West, they've set up a permanent post, probably because it's along their route or something."

Siren feels his tanks churn a bit, "Do they know you're here?"

"Yeah, they know. They send trackers out every couple of weeks—_used _to be they'd send trackers out every other _day_, and they just might start doing that again now that you 'n your friend have gone and made such an entrance in those pods."

"Oh, well, sorry to wreck your set-up." Siren frowns a little, the pain of his wounds putting him in a tense mood.

The red mech rolls his turquoise optics, "If anything, I've got a better chance of getting _out_ of here now that you two are around, so long as you're both alive long enough to help."

Siren perks up at this, "My friend—have you—"

The other holds his hand up, "I didn't feel good about leaving you alone here to go look for 'im, not in the shape you're in. Cuz, see, it's not the slave traders that I'm most worried about these days." An uneasy look from Siren encourages him to continue, "We're not the only ones marooned on this rock, there's some kind of… I don't know what he is, but he's got a bad attitude and a set a' teeth to match."

Siren watches as the mech looks away, sensing that a bad memory has come up in the other's processor, "Have you always been alone out here?"

Siren's red gaze is met by turquoise optics, "No. I was captured by those slave traders, along with a group of bots from my colony when it was attacked. A lot of us managed to escape when the traders landed at this outpost, most were just caught again. Those of us who managed to keep out of the traders' sights, though… Well, we were picked off, one by one… by the monster. I'm all that's left."

With some effort, Siren sits up and leans back against the cave wall, holding optic contact with the other mech, "I'm sorry…" The red mech shrugs in reply, and he continues, "You said you're from a colony… there aren't really a lot of colonies left on Cybertron, which one are you from?"

"Cybertron?" The mech blinks, "I'm not from Cybertron, I'm from Paradon. Our people left Cybertron a long time ago, during the Golden Age, and I've heard that there are tons of colonies on other planets, just like mine… or, at least there were." He then pauses, "Wait, are _you_ from Cybertron?"

This is incredible—a real _Colonist!_ Nightbeat would have so many questions for this mech! It's no wonder that his armor looks so different, who _knows_ what kind of hybrid culture they have, what the planet was like, the architecture, everything!

Siren pulls himself out of his thoughts to reply, "Yeah, me and my friend both, and we didn't think that the colonies were still around!"

"Well, _hopefully_ they're still around, it's been a while since mine was attacked, I'm not sure that there's much left of it now…" The mech swallows and glances off momentarily before looking to Siren again, his demeanor lightening to closer match the pale blue mech's excitement, "So, Cybertron, it's still doing well?"

The smaller mech nods, "Yeah, it's fine, but my friend thinks it's gonna fall into some kind of civil war soon, which… probably wouldn't be good… That's actually why we came all the way out here, sorta, but we're also looking for somebot…" Siren then tilts his helm a little, blushing in embarrassment, "Um… by the way… What's your name?"

The other mech blinks before letting out an equally embarrassed laugh, "Aw, frag, I'm sorry, it's been so long since I've talked to another bot that I've forgotten my manners! Hah, I'm Hosehead. 'S really good to meet you." He extends his hand towards the other.

Siren smiles and shakes Hosehead's hand, "I'm Siren, nice to meet you, too, Hosehead. You know, you seem pretty articulated for a bot that's not had anybot to talk to for so long…" he smirks.

Hosehead chuckles, "Well, see, I've been keeping myself in shape by talkin' to a rock over there that I named _Wilson_—"

Both bots are suddenly startled into silence, however, as a deep roar tears through the air. The two remain frozen for a moment, optics directed towards the opening of the cave.

Siren is the first to break the silence, whispering, "What was that…?"

"That…" Hosehead swallows, "…Would be the monster. And he calls himself Slag."

* * *

><p>I squint my optics in an attempt to see further into the distance as the faint roar sounds across the barren wasteland I'm crossing. I don't know if it's a mirage or what, but I could swear that I see a green <em>jungle<em> on the horizon. What a strange world this moon is, with opposing, alien environments that somehow work together. Or, perhaps the entire rock was covered by lush jungle and has begun to deteriorate into desert. Or, maybe it's even the other way around, organic worlds can be deceptive.

I have to keep reminding myself to _lift_ my peds and not drag them along as I continue my Eastward path, my navigation program flashing screens over my HUD every time I start straying to the North or South. It's a good thing, too, because I'm just about at that point of exhaustion where you don't even wanna think anymore, where all the energy that you've got left is wholly dedicated to pushing yourself to keep walking.

There have, however, been a few things along the way that have kept my mind wandering in thought. I've found parts and pieces of various objects, some of them looking like they came from alien machines, others looking like they may have preserved edible substances. With an atmosphere like the one this rock has, there's not a chance that it could be space junk that just drifted down. So, either there have been unfortunate visitors like myself and Siren—or the place is inhabited.

There's not been a single print to be found in the sand that would indicate such, though. Although, by the way the winds shift the strange dunes of sand, it's unlikely that even if there were tracks left behind by other beings that they would be around long.

I try to keep myself distracted by theories of life forms inhabiting this rock, but it only lasts for so long until I start wondering if I've gone and made the greatest mistake of my life. Maybe I am just a kid who thinks he knows enough to change the way things are, to bring justice and truth out of the shadows of conspiracy. Maybe I've gone in too deep this time. Maybe I should've just conformed, gone to school, raised my hand when I wanted to speak, gone to bed when the sun set.

Maybe I should've just given up.

It doesn't sound right. You never see the hero in a story give up. The detective always solves the crime, he saves the innocent from the unjust ways of the schemers, the liars, and the killers. Prowl said it himself, though—I'm not a real detective, I don't have a badge, or a degree; I don't get to cuff up the thugs and send them off to jail.

This has all just fallen apart. Siren could be dead. I could be following him soon without a way off this seemingly dead rock. Only thing is, I don't know if I'll be following him to the Well of Allsparks, or if Primus will decide to flick me into the Pit instead.

Frag, I gotta stop thinking like this, it's not gonna help Siren, and it sure as slag isn't helping me motivate myself to keep walking. Frag what Prowl says, I'm a detective in my own right, I've got my head and spark in the right place; and I'm never gonna stop fighting for the truth. I can fix this, I can save Siren and get us back on our path. We've both made our choice to go through with this, what kind of mechs would we be if we just gave up?

I told Siren that he would be my partner, and I told him that I would always protect him with my life. I don't plan to go back on my word, not now or ever. He's with me in this, and we're sure as Pit gonna make it through, and we're gonna make it back home with the truth.

My little inner pep-talk is suddenly put on hold, however, as a metal dart bounces off my shoulder armor. Looking down at it dumbly, my processor a bit slow due to heat exhaustion, it takes me a moment to realize—that thing didn't just come out of thin air, something or someone _shot_ it at me!

A series of excited yelps and hollers fills my audio receptors, and my optics are met by the sight of what looks like an alien hunting party coming over a tall sand dune—and they look pretty interested in me.

"Frag my life." Turning, I struggle to run as fast as I can across the yielding sand, growling in annoyance as the slow-headed aliens continue to try tagging me with their dart guns, the needle tips only denting and scratching my armor. Chances are, the darts are filled with some kind of organic sedative; not really something I need to worry about.

I'm forced to eat my words, however, when one of the darts manages to land in a tender spot on an energon line that snakes over my neck plating, and instantly I'm hit by a nauseating, drowsy sensation. There's no way that these aliens would know how to sedate a Cybertronian, unless it's not a sedative at all, but some kind of acid, in which case I would probably just keel over. I try not to keep that last thought in my processor as the world begins to tumble around me—or maybe that's just me, tumbling aft-over-helm.

Hopefully Siren's having better luck than I am.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: What an awesome week, I just got back from LA to visit some family and spent a day at Universal Studios-and oh man. The Transformers ride was. Incredible. It was so much more than I was expecting, it was really an awesome experience. If anyone can hit up LA this Summer, you /have/ to force your way into Universal and get on that ride XD

Also, last week's chapter had an error that I've fixed-the name "Snarl" was given to the mystery monster haunting the moon that our hero trio is on, but I meant to write "Slag". Sorry for that XD;

Starting this coming week, I'm gonna start posting twice a week, though I'm not sure which day the new postings will come up on, we'll just have to see how things work out. X)

Thank you SezWho for your comments, it's always meant so much to me that you've been so supportive. ^_^

To my Readers and Reveiwers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>"You know how to use one of these?"<p>

Siren blinks his optics and looks over to the red mech that's speaking, pausing when he sees what he's referring to, "Is that… a _spear?"_

Hosehead's lips puff up in a frown that almost looks offended, "_Yeah_, it's a spear, cuz see, I must've forgotten where the gun vendors are on this desert _moon_." He takes a set of spears and locks them onto his back armor, keeping one in each of his hands before walking over to Siren and offers one to him, "That thing we just heard out there? I've never heard it this close to the cave. I'm thinking he's finally figured out that this is where his next meal is hiding."

Siren hesitates a bit before extending his remaining hand out and accepting the spear, looking the crude defense mechanism over with some speculation, "So what do we do? We're not gonna fight it, are we?" He looks up at Hosehead, dread apparent on his pale faceplates.

"Nah, not unless we have to. I'm guessing that our best bet is to go further up the mountain, I don't think the monster likes climbing too much, he's got big feet." Reaching down, Hosehead lifts Siren onto his peds by his shoulder armor.

"You're _guessing_ that's our best bet?" Siren squints his optics in uncertainty.

Hosehead pauses and raises an optic ridge at the younger mech, "Primus, kid, would you rather we just sit around in here and _wait_ for him to show up?"

Siren's voice suddenly goes quiet as his optics widen, his chassis seizing up as a second roar bites through the air, this time much closer than the last, "I think he just did…"

Hosehead also freezes at the audio-ringing bellow, directing his turquoise visor to the cave entrance before feeling his tanks churn at the sight of the trees just at the foot of the mountain begin to shift and sway with movements from something very big, "Aw, frag me." Turning to Siren, he takes the mech's arm, "We're gonna run now, Siren. Not out the front of the cave, but further back. There's a river that'll take us out the other side of the mountain—it's the only chance we've got."

Receiving a nod from Siren, Hosehead points towards the dark stretches of the cave in a command to start running, the younger mech hesitantly obeying. Turning, Hosehead darts to the opening of the cave and quickly dances his fingertips across a keypad that's been stuck onto the cave wall, several wires protruding from it and snaking to large, grey, putty-like mounds; all of which have red lights that begin flashing.

"Let's see how you like some fireworks, you spawn of a glitch…" With a final look over the explosives that he'd managed to cop off a few slavers in the past, Hosehead runs back into the depths of the cave, catching up with Siren and holding the other's arm to keep him moving.

Both mechs cringe as they can feel the reverberations of the footsteps of a very large predator entering the cave, yet another ravenous howl filling their audio receptors. Making a sudden stop, Hosehead reels on his peds and pulls Siren down to the ground behind a large rock just as an explosion sounds, a gust of hot air rushing past them as bits of the cave begin imploding. Maybe he used too much plastique?

"The cave is gonna kill us before that _thing_ back there does!" Siren flinches as rocks ricochet off his helm and armor as the entire cave feels like it may give at any moment.

"Yeah, well it'd be a lot quicker than getting eaten alive, now c'mon!" Pulling the wounded mech up onto his peds again, Hosehead leads Siren further back into the pitch black cave as it shakes itself apart, their optics flickering and flaring as they adjust to compensate for the lack of light.

Both mechs release a startled gasp as they're suddenly plunged into an icy current, both getting battered around as the white rapids plow them into rocks before sucking them under completely. Hosehead reminds himself not to fall into his solo-survivor mode as he keeps a tight hold onto Siren's arm as they're twisted and churned through the violent waters of the cave's river, the horror of it enhanced by the absolute darkness encasing it.

It seems like an eternity before the river retracts its vice grip on the two mechs, their chassis slowly righting themselves as they drift through the calmer current as the river emerges out into the jungle beyond the mountain. Golden light filters and glimmers through the water, and it takes Hosehead a moment to realize he has his optics tightly sealed shut. Twitching back into life, the red-armored mech looks up towards the surface of the river and pushes off the bottom, pulling Siren up with him. Both mechs cough up the fluids from their air intakes, and both are thoroughly shaken up from the all-too-close call.

"You okay?" Hosehead feels an uneasy sensation as Siren's helm seems to be lolling loosely on his neck, able to see quite clearly that the young Cybertronian is drained, "Just hold on, kid, we just gotta make it to someplace where we can hunker down…" Swimming to the edge of the river, he pulls himself out before fishing Siren out, helping him stand, "You gonna make it?"

Siren takes a moment to focus his dazed optics before replying with a nod, "I used to like swimming in rivers, you know."

Hosehead is taken aback for a moment before he huffs and lets a weak chuckle roll from his vocalizer, "You're really somethin' else, kid…" The red Colonist then takes a double glance at Siren's good hand, "Hey, and you managed to keep a hold of your spear! That's worth somethin'…"

"Trust me, I'd let go of it if I could, but I think my servo gears are stuck in their locked position." Siren's dry comment earns him a second chuckle from his companion. He follows his guide as they start walking alongside the river, further away from the mountain they came from, "So do you think that explosion did the monster in?"

Hosehead's nose wrinkles up in thought as he frowns lightly, helm shaking, "No, I don't think so… but, I bet it sure as slag slowed him down. And, trust me, with this guy, that's worth whatever it takes."

Siren nods lightly and follows his companion as they move deeper into the jungle. The sun creeps slowly through the sky, its heat lingering in the humid setting, mist rising and creating an eerie, quiet mood. Hosehead chews nervously on his lip as he starts to grow uncertain of which direction he's traveling in with the sun now far past the horizon, clouds above obscuring his view of the stars, and the mist making it all too easy to walk past the same tree twice. Stopping, he looks back at Siren and approaches him, checking the wound where the mech's hand had been severed.

"This looks like it's gonna heal just fine… that's good, you're real lucky."

Siren withholds a snappy comment, failing to see his _luck_ in the matter, and instead nods lightly before looking up at the taller bot, "Why are we stopping? Are we lost?"

Hosehead winces—was it that easy to figure out for the pale mech? "Well…" Hosehead starts as he glances around, "This weather is making it… difficult… to figure which way we're going… And as you've probably figured out for yourself, our internal nav-systems are worth nil, the magnetic fields on this rock are some of the weirdest I've ever recorded… But if we just keep moving, we should be fine."

Siren nods, about to start up their aimless trudge again before him and Hosehead both freeze at the sound of a loud crunch. Their sets of red and turquoise optics brighten in the fog, the tall, pistol-shaped audio receptors on both of their helms shifting faintly to try to pick up where the sound came from. The miniscule dots of liquid floating in the air seem to hover motionless for an intense, silent moment, everything still.

The silence is then violently shattered as a blinding, tall plume of fire suddenly bursts through the dense fog, lighting up the faces of the two young bots witnessing it. Instinctively, Hosehead and Siren both drop backwards away from the flame to avoid its heat, but just as quickly realize what a mistake it was to do so, the both of them now off their peds and in a bad position on the ground. Siren is unable to interpret what Hosehead yells to him, but mimics the red bot as both of them roll away from one another across the ground just as a monstrous beast charges straight towards them, their efforts saving them from being stampeded.

Savage grunts and bellows fill the thick air as the massive predator skids to a halt on all fours, turning to make another charge at them. Siren scrambles across the muddy ground and yelps as he loses his balance and slides down a hill, catching onto a root protruding from the ground with his remaining hand. Hosehead pushes himself up onto his peds and stands firmly with his knees bent, watching as the massive beast charges straight for him before he brandishes a spear from his back armor and stabs it straight into the beast's mouth. Bad move. The red Colonist releases a startled shout as he's sideswiped by the unfazed beast as he tries jumping out of the way, his spear snapping in its mouth like it was a child's toy.

Falling onto his side, Hosehead struggles to drag himself across the ground, his teeth chattering in fear as he hears the behemoth predator yet again round to make another charge. He's taken aback for a moment, however, when he suddenly sees a pair of pale-armored legs dart by in the mist—was that…?

Siren's spark is pounding brutally in his chest compartment as he runs past his downed companion and plants his peds firmly, looking to the large shadow that's approaching quickly through the fog. Animals don't like loud noises, right? Scrap, _nothing_ likes loud noises, make it strong enough and it can disorient a bot to the point that they can't walk straight for a day. Rotating the sonic-screamer pistols on his helm, he waits until the right moment before letting them off, the high frequency shrill piercing the damp air and striking the charging monster head on.

Siren's trill is cut short as Hosehead suddenly tackles him out of the way of the predator as it quickly averts its charge, disoriented as it smashes itself straight into a large tree, the organic structure cracking and splitting apart. Both young mechs look skyward as the tall timber tips and falls through the fog—dead set towards them, of course. Siren cringes and curls up with his arms over his helm while Hosehead pushes himself up on his hands and rotates the pistols on the side of his helm, revealing a starkly similar attribute to Nightbeat and Siren's—only, his pistols release a sharp line of bright red lasers that cut through the tree as it falls, averting a chunk of it away from them. The remains of the tree fall a bit too close for comfort on either side of the two bots, the resulting force from the collapse shaking them both down to their bolts.

Once more, the fog stills over the forest, and the air grows quiet save for the panting intakes of the two bots. Anticipation and anxiety grows thick as the mist, until finally Siren looks to Hosehead, "Do you think he's dead?"

Hosehead shakes his helm, "No… but he might be out long enough for us to make another run for it…" Standing, he takes Siren's hand and helps the other up, both of their helms turning to look towards the base of the collapsed tree, a few sparks flickering from where the beast is downed.

Sparks? The creature… isn't organic?

Siren blinks, baffled for a moment, then slowly starts towards the immobilized form of their hunter.

Hosehead's optics flare as he reaches out to catch Siren by his arm, "Are you _insane? _What are you _doing?"_

Siren glances back to Hosehead and slips his arm out of the other's hold before returning his attention to the monster. The closer he gets, the thinner the fog is between himself and the creature, until finally—it's all quite clear, "Holy slag… He's—He's a Cybertro—"

Siren is cut off as the downed beast's tail suddenly swings around and slams the back of him, throwing him to the ground. The sound of sliding metal plates and hissing hydraulics fills the air, the frame of the predator shifting until a two-legged form towers over the Sector Capri native, a pair of blazing, yellow optics bearing down on him. The monster leans down and pinches Siren's pale helm between two large digits, a gruff voice snarling out, "Play time over, Slag's hungry."

There's something terribly familiar about the overall unpleasant demeanor and poor grammar of this bot—wait, there's a symbol on the predatory mech's chest armor, it's…!

"**GRIMLOCK!"**

Siren's outburst is enough to make even the brutish mech jolt, the bright yellow optics blinking a few times before an impatient growl leaves him, "How you know that name? Who are you?"

"**You're—You're a **_**Dinobot**_**, just like Grimlock! I—we—we're friends, back on Cybertron!"** Siren's spark pumps furiously in his chest, his intakes working overtime to keep his systems from rebooting in a Cybertronian version of _fainting out of fear._

The Dinobot stares at the tiny mech for a moment, "Grimlock send you?"

"I—ah—yes! Grimlock, he—he couldn't fit on our ship, but yeah, we… we came to find you!" A terrified grin and laugh shudders from Siren's vocalizer as his large optics look into the Dinobot's.

The Dinobot is still for another moment before frowning, "Don't believe you. Grimlock doesn't do rescue parties. He probably just want to beat my aft for getting caught by slavers. He'd come personally to do that. Obviously."

Siren blinks a few times, feeling the end start to come nigh yet again, "Ah, well, hah! I'm supposed to… _locate _you… so that Grimlock will know… where to _find _you so that… he can!"

A tense silence falls over the conversing pair, Hosehead off to their side about to have a sparkattack as he helplessly watches. The Dino terror then vents a puff of steam from his nostrils and nods, "Sounds about right."

A nervous chuckle leaves the pale blue mech, "Yeah, it… yeah. So… can you… put me down now?" Siren grunts as he's dropped onto his aft, standing up quickly with Hosehead's help before they both look up at the towering Dinobot.

"So go tell Grimlock where to find me. I got business here on moon, can't leave yet."

Siren winces a bit, "Well… our ship was kinda… shot. A lot, until it… stopped working…"

The Dinobot pauses and looks down at the small bot, "… You suck at your job. What kind of scout you supposed to be? And how old are you? You're so small and skinny, you'd make better _toothpick_ than meal."

Siren's features go pale, "Hah! Well, uh, see I'm not the only scout that was sent, I came here with a friend, Nightbeat, but we were shot down by some—"Siren blinks and stops as a hand is raised in front of his face.

"Nightbeat? Nightbeat here, too?"

"I… yes?" Siren cringes a bit, squinting. Great, please don't say Nightbeat somehow ticked this mech off.

Yet another awkward silence falls over the trio of mechs as the Dinobot is seemingly thinking (though one can only assume that's what's actually happening as he stares at his potential meals). The Dinobot then snorts and smirks, "Grimlock likes that kid. I think he tolerable."


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Alrighty, so as some of you might've noticed, I didn't post twice this week XD; I guess I just don't have enough time to lend to two chapters a week, but maybe it'll happen at some point in the future. Until then, I think we'll have to keep it at one post a week. That being said... I hope ya'll enjoy this week's, I've got a few new faces for ya'll to guess. X)

Thank you to my awesome readers and reviewers!

Please Enjoy! Comments are always very much appreciated. ^_^

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><p>"<em>Yer gonna regret this."<em>

Grimlock's parting words refuse to unsettle from the forefront of Prowl's CPU as he follows his prisoner, Barricade, closely through one of the grittiest sectors of Iacon—Sector V-13, a market sector scattered with residential blocks, nestled just alongside the Iacon Industrial District. To say the least, the place is dirty. The air is tainted with a never-rising fog of orange and white byproducts of the smoke towers that rise high out of the Industrial District. The stench is incredible, with who-knows-what kinds of virus-ridden liquids running along the gutters and gathering in immeasurably deep puddles. Urban myths of the district dictate that small sparklings have fallen into those puddles and never came out.

At least they have the cover of night to mask who they are, it's well known amongst the Enforcer Department that Sector V-13 is less than fond of them. Any bot that _does_ wander past the trio of mechs appears to be too drunk to even decipher the meanings of the Enforcer badges adorned on two of them.

"Sir, I'm not so sure about this…" Downshift whispers to his Commander from behind his faceshield, glancing about the quiet streets with his blue optics.

"It's a bit late for that, Downshift. We mustn't start second-guessing ourselves…" Prowl keeps his tone cool and calm, not about to let the Gladiator leading them catch on to his own uncertainty.

Barricade smiles as he turns down an alleyway, his hands cuffed behind his back, "Y'know, we'd get there a lot faster if we _drove_…"

Prowl's lip twitches into a snarl, "Just keep walking, Barricade, and don't insult my intelligence."

_Oh, but it's too easy to do just that…_ Barricade's smile only grows more wicked as he leads to the two Enforcers along. Who ever thought it could be this easy? He always figured the Praxian to be smarter than this, but then again—Prowl doesn't have all the cards in his hand. He doesn't have a _clue _as to who his little partner, _Downshift_, really is.

He'll find out soon enough.

"This is just a dirty marketplace district, I don't see how a _ship_ could just be sitting around here, there aren't any warehouses big enough to hide one…" Downshift takes quick glances around, acting as if he's getting jumpy.

Prowl's mouth tightens into a hard line, "Downshift, you're starting to get on my nerves. Just keep quiet and do as you're told. You agreed to assist me with this, so mech up and just keep your optics online."

Barricade chuckles, knowing that 'Downshift' must be getting tired of the bossy Praxian's berating after so many meta-cycles of working under him. He can't wait to see how this ends.

Making a turn in the alley, the dark mech leads the two Enforcers down a long stairway that leads into a decommissioned subsurface railway. Dim, green lights flicker and spark, the air suddenly ice cold as they enter the deep pocket of underground tunnels.

"These railways were supposed to have been sealed off orbital cycles ago…" Prowl looks around at the walls and floors, seeing plenty of evidence that there are likely homeless bots that live down here.

"I guess the High Council preferred that all the wretches of this sector have someplace underground to hide, rather than _dirtying _up the upper streets of their precious city to beg." There's an unmistakable tone of bitterness in Barricade's growled response.

Prowl frowns lightly, glancing around before pausing as Barricade steps off the waiting platform of the decommissioned station to the tracks below. Barricade takes notice of the Praxian's hesitance and sneers.

"Afraid that a ghost train's gonna come around the bend to get ya?"

Prowl's frown only grows before he and Downshift step down onto the tracks to follow the Gladiator, "For your sake, Barricade, it had better not be ghosts that we're chasing down here…"

An easy chuckle rolls out of Barricade's vocalizer as he continues forward along the rusted, unstable tracks, the tunnel getting darker as they go further from the station platforms. His dark form is barely silhouetted by the dying lights lining the ceiling of the dank tunnel, only the bright lights on the stasis cuffs binding his wrists behind his back giving a sure indication of his presence, "For your _own_ sake, Prowl, you better hope you can trust that Dinobot with a ship."

A bitter scowl cringes across Prowl's pale faceplates as he continues along, giving Barricade a push forward, "Keep walking."

In other words, shut up.

Anybot with claustrophobia wouldn't make it very long in these tunnels, as they seem to stretch on forever, and the only way out is to retrace their steps all the way back to where they came in. By the time the trio of bots arrives at a wide stairway that's going to lead them even deeper under the surface streets of the city, the door panels on Prowl's back are twitching in tense anxiety. Perhaps this really was a bad idea.

Under normal circumstances, there's not a chance in the universe that Prowl would have even given a second thought to Barricade's offer to lead him to a ship. What would Barricade possibly get from such an exchange? Why would he willingly help the Praxian? There are just too many uncertainties, too many unaccounted for factors—not to mention the location. Deep underground like this, Prowl's not even sure if his comlink will function—equaling no backup. Not only that, but the confined spaces would make for an excellent place of ambush.

There are hardly any outcomes that Prowl's logic and battle processors can predict that would end well. So why is he doing this?

He's desperate.

Desperate to get his way, to get those _boys_ back in their homes with their families, where they belong. He's desperate not to lose another loved one, as he lost Roulette. He felt utterly helpless when the rescue teams reported that they couldn't find even a trace of her in the ruins, back in Kaon, seven years ago. He feels that same, tightening grip of helplessness now. Those boys are beyond the atmosphere, likely in a different quadrant of the galaxy by now—and he has no way of reaching them. He tried pleading his case with the higher ups, he tried to do things right, by the book.

His pleas fell on deaf audios, and his protests were met only by accusative backlash.

His desperation has led him here, to this dark, reprehensible place, _trusting _the last mech on Cybertron he ever thought he possibly could.

Barricade turns his electric yellow optics back to glance to the two Enforcers, "If we're lucky, there won't be anybot down there."

Alerted by this, Prowl catches Barricade by his shoulder before the mech can go through the quiet, dark opening leading away from the tracks, "Just what exactly is _down_ there? You say it's a 'warehouse', but if there are potential threats down there, I don't think you're giving me everything I need to know."

"You were expecting that I would?" Barricade pulls his shoulder away, glaring at the other mech for a moment, "… It's an old stadium, where some of the Gladiator trials were held. Now it's just used for storage by whoever the frag has somethin' big to hide."

"And you've lead me here, knowing that I could come back anytime to bust your friends down there?" Prowl's optics narrow.

"Whoever's down there ain't friends of mine, the Gladiators abandoned this post ages ago, after the stadium project in Sector Capri was brought down by _you_ and the rest of the High Council's pets." Again, Barricade turns and starts down the dark stairway, his ped steps echoing off the walls.

Glancing to Downshift momentarily, Prowl reconsiders the situation once more before following down into the unknown. Barricade's teeth bare themselves in sadistic glee, veiled by the shadows; too easy.

* * *

><p>An odd smell works its way through my olfactory sensors, registering in my CPU and making my faceplates cringe in response.<p>

Woof. What could _possibly_ smell that awful?

Forget the smell—where _am_ I? Maybe that should be my first question to investigate.

It takes a moment for my optical receptors to online, only to flinch when they're flooded with bright, washed out light. My visor's missing—why is it missing? My hands, can't move, I'm tied down to some kinda metal slab…

"Lookee look here, mates, he's wakin' up…" An odd accent cuts through the air, the voice carrying it forcibly low and sounding like it's gurgling on liquid.

A frustrated groan quietly leaves my vocalizer as I loll my helm to the side in an attempt to avoid the bright light, my optics slowly adjusting themselves. I give a light jolt as a squashy hand suddenly darts out from beyond the bright light and clasps itself around my jaw, making my lips squish together and pucker in what I'm sure is an idiotic look on me. Puffing air out in protest to the grab, I end up spitting specks of coolant onto the limb attached to it, earning a startled hiss from the owner. As the hand draws away from my face, I bare my teeth and jerk my helm forward, getting a satisfactory bite at the offending hand before it's able to escape my hold and retracts away.

"The lil' buggah _bit_ me, aye! 'Ee bit me!" A few other voices join in, most of them laughing, some of them berating either myself or the owner of the bitten hand.

Ugh. _Why_ did I bite that thing? It tasted awful! Obviously an organic, and obviously an organic that must've lived half its life wallowing and soaking in a cesspool.

At last, the bright light is turned away from my face. When I see the creature responsible for the courtesy, however, I kind of start to wish I was still being blinded. Standing before the metal slab I'm clamped down onto is a tall, freakishly skinny alien of some sort, his body covered in purple scales, strange flaps of green leather framing his face. Unsettling, yellow eyes glow from amidst the bizarre features, both of which are locked onto me. It isn't until the creature steps closer to me that I realize he has a short, secondary pair of arms protruding from his sides, the tri-digit appendages resting casually on his hips.

At least Siren's not here, he'd probably be purging his tanks right about now.

I assume this one must be the leader, as the other aliens in the room have gone quiet, anticipating him to speak.

"You fail to rise up to your reputation, little one. From my metal friend's description, you're supposedly one of the slipperiest preys to be had in this half of the galaxy." A chuckle hisses from the alien's throat as he leans closer to me, his rancor stink washing over me with every breath and movement he makes.

I blatantly grimace at the alien and let out a few weak coughs to try to push his rank away from me, with little success, "If your reputation is killing your prey with your breath, I'd say you rise plenty high enough on that chart." A sharp yelp escapes me as the blunt end of a weapon cracks across my cheek, my helm jerking to the side with the motion.

"That's enough, Braid." A new voice suddenly rumbles in the room.

'Braid' turns his ugly head and looks back in what I'm slowly realizing is some kind of laboratory, perhaps one that's on a ship of some kind, the subtle sound of engines audible in the spacious room. He gives a scoff and shrugs, "Just teachin' the brat a lesson, he should know not to talk to his _captors_ like that…"

"And you should know not to damage my merchandise, slaver." The owner of the voice steps out from beyond my view and comes close to the metal slab I'm on, a pair of sharp, red optics looking down at me, framed by a white face with black tattoos.

Braid scoffs and waves off the comment, putting all four of his hands on his hips, "You've yet to hand me the credits, bounty hunter, or even shake my hand in agreement to pay them."

"You wanna shake hands on it?" The mech turns and raises his forearm, revealing a long, jagged hook in place of a hand.

Braid snarls and backs off a bit, "Just look the kid over and make sure it's the one you're looking for. I don't need to have any more of my time wasted."

The bounty hunter lowers his hook away from the alien, only to turn and bring it close to my face, the pointed tip of it turning up my chin. I don't realize that I'm looking up at the mech with large, alarmed optics until he chuckles quietly, turning my chin to get an all-around look over my face. His next words are enough to send me reeling in further confusion.

"Like father like son. You look just like him, kid."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Sorry for the late post today! Something's been going on with the site and the chapter wouldn't upload. I hope ya'll are doing well and enjoying the story, I've had a great time writing it for ya. ^_^

SezWho, thank you for an ever-enthusiastic comment, I can feel your anger for Prowl's decisions burning through the screen as I read it XD

To my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>The dark stairway seems to go down and down for what feels like a short eternity, the air growing colder as though they're being taken down into a frozen Pit. Eerie sensations pass through Prowl's spark as he looks about the stairs, pieces of armor and pieces of weapons broken and scattered along the walls, dark stains left as shadows of the torment the mechs that went down here engaged themselves in—and for what, a sense of liberation? Where is the release in being torn apart, of shredding the fibers of another being?<p>

Prowl doesn't understand the mentality of the Gladiators. He doesn't understand how such fulfillment—how _brotherhood_—can be attained from such dark catacombs, such dark intentions or desires.

He remembers why he became an Enforcer, why he chose to serve and protect the lives of the innocent. To _serve_, to give himself over to the cause, to justice, mind and body; to willingly sacrifice everything for a complete stranger should the need ever arise.

It is because evil is very real in this place.

It festers inside the deepest reaches of a being's spark, it swells and lurches to the forefront of the mind until it finally takes control of the hands and unleashes its cruelty upon those that can be overtaken—the weak and the gentle of spark, the innocence that evil so craves to corrupt and maim.

Prowl senses these things in this place, these deepening tunnels and crypts that lie under his very city. He senses it from the mech in cuffs that is leading him and his partner further down.

"You're awfully quiet, Officer… Don't you have _questions_ spinning in that dense head of yours?" Barricade's smile is projected well enough through his voice that Prowl knows its presence on the dark mech's face.

"This stairway doesn't seem to provide a very easy route for anybot carrying or moving something heavy to put into storage down there… Are there other entrances?" Even as Prowl's words leave him, he feels as though he's not the one speaking, his processor set to such high alert to the point that everything almost feels surreal. What is he doing here?

The Gladiator shrugs, "Only more stairways like this one, also an entrance from some ancient speedway tunnels—probably where the ship was brought in from. Bots get their things down here just fine. They have to, when they're desperate enough to turn to using this pit."

The stairway suddenly comes to an end, and the three mechs find themselves immersed into total darkness, only the faintest of light reaching them from the top of the tunneling stairway they just came from. Prowl onlines his alt-form's headlights that are positioned along the sides of his chest compartment, lighting up the floor and walls of what looks like an ancient bomb shelter.

"What is this place? What were these halls used for?" Prowl observes a few metal slabs, about the size of a medical berth, stained with energon that has been aged to a dark brown. Benches and lockers line the walls, most of them busted open or dented inward. Rusted weapons are piled in the corners, along with miscellaneous chassis parts.

"These are the Gladiator lockers, 's where we would come before and after each fight, 'n get patched up." Barricade heads towards a narrow hallway at the other side of the room, the two Enforcers in tow following slowly.

Prowl 's optics glance across the walls of the narrow hallway, names and messages written along them, words of victory—and words meant to sew doubt into anybot who passes by them. He has plenty enough of that as it is. "How much further is it?"

The hall opens up into a wide, spacious area just as Barricade turns his helm to look over his shoulder at Prowl and Downshift, "Destination."

Just as the word leaves the Decepticon's vocalizer, bright lights suddenly come on with loud clicks, flooding Prowl's optics with the sight of a large stadium—the fighting pit of which he and his partner have just been led into. Hundreds of voices rise in a mad cheer, bots filling the elevated stadium bleachers—so much for an abandoned arena.

Prowl's optics are wide in disbelief at the sudden shift, stunned by the multitude of bots in the stands, but acts quickly as he draws his blaster and aims it at Barricade, who looks as though he's planning to make a run for it. "You led us into a trap! There _is _no ship, is there?"

Barricade turns slowly to face the Enforcer, smiling in gleeful satisfaction as he lets the ineffective stasis cuffs around his wrists slide off and fall onto the energon-stained sand of the arena, "You were expecting that there was really a ship down here? You thought you could really trust me?" He lets out a pleasured cackle, "This is what happens when a puritan, holier-than-thou Praxian tries dipping his hands into the murky waters—only, these sharks will take a lot more than just your hand."

Prowl feels a hard, cold lump tighten in his core as he takes a glance around the filled stadium, the hallway entrance behind him sealed off. He can only imagine what happens next. Turning his helm quickly, he onlines his vocalizer to strategize with Downshift, only to discover the mech is missing, "Downshift—?" He turns his helm to Barricade, "What've you done with him?"

"_I've_ done nothing, Praxian. Maybe he got cold peds and ran."

The sadistic smile on the Gladiator's face makes Prowl tighten his finger on his trigger, but he's stopped as a familiar voice suddenly sounds behind him over the roar of the grungy bots in the stadium stands.

"Prowl?"

Turning quickly, Prowl's jaw goes slack in shock at the owner of the voice, "Nightbeat—? Primus, how are you here?" Running to the child, Prowl takes a hold of his shoulders, "Are you hurt? I'm going to get you out of here, Nightbeat, I swear it." Turning to face Barricade again, he keeps Nightbeat behind him, shielding him protectively, "Barricade, do whatever you want with me, but let the child go. He has nothing to do with this; I'm the one you want to get even with."

"The kid can leave whenever he wants, Prowl, no bot's stopping him." Barricade's grin grows at the look of uncertainty on the Praxian's face, "Something tells me that he likes it right where he is, though."

Without warning, a sharp, burning pain suddenly enters Prowl's side from behind, drawing a startled cry from him. Turning his helm, his mind reels when he looks down to see the child he's protecting standing there, holding a knife in his side. "N-Nightbeat?"

The child smirks, "I'm tired of having a curfew, Officer. I think it's time I set a permanent one for you." With an inexplicably powerful kick, the Capri native sends Prowl rolling across the stained floor of the fighting pit. Taking quick, long strides, he approaches the fallen Enforcer before kneeling and wrenches the blade out of the mech's side.

What is this, why is Nightbeat doing this—has he been brainwashed again by the Gladiators? Is this really happening? Struggling to push himself back onto his peds, Prowl flinches as a blunt kick to his chin sends him staggering backwards, "Nightbeat, stop! You know me—it's Prowl!"

"I know good and well who you are, and I've been waiting for this moment for a long time." Delivering a roundhouse kick to the other mech's helm, the child has his prey right where he wants him and circles around him like a vulture.

Prowl's optics flicker as static noise scatters across them, energon running down his lips and chin from his shattered olfactory sensor as he pushes himself up onto his hands. There's no possible way that a child Nightbeat's size could deliver such powerful strikes, something isn't right. Shifting as fast as he can, Prowl springs himself back onto his peds and turns to face his potential adversary, but feels his spark drop at the visage that meets him this time.

"Roulette…?"

This can't be real.

The femme twirls the dagger stained with Prowl's energon in her hand, "Miss me, darling?"

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Nightbeat's really good at not getting caught, what if we're wrong and he's not here? What'll we do if <em>we<em> get caught?" Siren keeps his voice down as he and Hosehead lie low on a ridge looking down into an inactive volcano pit where a Slaver ship rests, the vessel suspended by beams projected from the hull into the rock walls.

Hosehead turns his translucent visor to the smaller mech, "Chances are, your friend ditched the pod he came down in, and I _know_ the Slavers saw both of your pods come down, and _his_ was a lot closer to their camp than yours. I don't know anything personally about your friend, but these Slavers mean business. I don't think even your bud could've escaped them if they crossed paths."

Siren frowns lightly, feeling the childish need to protect his heroic image of his best friend, "Then how come _you_ haven't been caught yet, if these Slavers are so tough?"

The red-armored Colonist is quiet for a moment as he shoots a light glare at the paler mech, "Because it used to be that there were other bots around me that got caught instead." Hosehead turns his helm away and looks down into the encampment, watching the ordered procession of the guards.

Siren's spark skips a beat as he feels guilt hit him for not thinking his words through more carefully. He has no idea just how much Hosehead's gone through, what it must have been like for him to watch the ones he cared for, being taken away from him right before his optics for whatever fate these Slavers had in store. Siren hopes he won't lose Nightbeat like that.

Both bots give a jolt as Slag suddenly lies on his stomach between the two, "So, we go in and we kill them all, find Nightbeat kid, take ship, and leave."

Hosehead squints an optic and snarls lightly, "We don't know if they have Nightbeat, and if they do—we don't know what they might do to him if they find out we're here looking for him. Things could get messy—_would _get messy—real fast if we just charge in all gung-ho. I'm serious, these Slavers are mean fraggers, we shouldn't stomp around like we own the place. We gotta keep a low profile, scope the place out, make sure that we even _need_ to be here."

Slag growls and looks down at the Colonist, "Who make you boss? You just tiny little bug, little red jelly bean I chew and spit out. You don't know how to go about this kinda scrap."

Cutting through the tension, Siren's tiny voice pipes into the conversation, "Okay, how about we go with both plans?" Feeling like he's going to spring a leak as both bots direct their haughty glares at him, he quickly continues, "First, Hosehead and I sneak in all stealthy-like, find out where Nightbeat is if he's here, what the situation is with that. Then, we call in the cavalry—Slag—and he comes in and stomps things up to distract the Slavers whiles we get Nightbeat out. Then… uh… then we all run away, and… steal a ship."

Slag and Hosehead both stare at the brightly blushing mech for a moment before simultaneously huffing, "Fine."

* * *

><p>"Who are you?" I can't pull my optics away as they venture across the bounty hunter's harsh features, wondering if he was born with all those spikes coming out of his elongated neck and chin, and also curious of why it is he looks like a mish-mash of parts that belonged to other bots at some point.<p>

And then there's the hook. Primus, that hook is a freaky lookin' thing. I wonder if he's ever accidentally tried picking his nose with it, or scratching his aft. That's one way to wake yourself up in the morning.

The bounty hunter's scarlet optics watch my own, an easy chuckle clicking deeply from his vocalizer, "The name's Lockdown, kid. You don't need to look so wary, I'm not the boogieman, and I ain't here t' eat ya."

"Oh, right, because I definitely was assuming that the hook was for cannibalistic purposes." A snarl curls my upper lip over some of my teeth, unable to hold back my snappy retort.

The other mech is only amused by it, smirking coolly as he walks over to the metal slab I'm bounded to, "You've got a viper's glossa on ya, I like that. I hate having a dull passenger, I end up resorting to breaking their fingers just to squeeze some amusement outta them." He stares at my unsettled reaction for a moment before guffawing loudly, "I'm just screwin' with ya, kid, I wouldn't do anything t' lose my bonus pay."

"So who's paying you? Megatron?"

"I'm not here on a paycheck, kid, I'm here on behalf of an old friend."

I squint and crinkle my nose as the tip of it is poked by the hunter's hook, not feeling reassured, "You said something about my father… Are you gonna tell me he's your 'old friend'?"

A creepy smile that may have been intended to be friendly grows on the mech's white faceplates, "You've got a sharp head t' match that glossa. You really are your father's son, kid." Lockdown is distracted, however, as the organic Slaver, Braid, enters the room.

"We've got a problem, east end of the encampment. Boys are tellin' me they've got a Dinobot stampedin' through the grounds, headed this way." Braid's voice is sharp and quick-worded, his adrenaline high evident in his dilated pupils.

Lockdown scoffs, "Well, sounds like you and your _boys_ are gonna have your hands full, so I'll just be getting along on my way with my merchandise. The credit transfer been verified yet?"

Braid growls lightly, "Oi, you've paid your way—but I'll pay _you_ if you wrangle up the psychopath threatening to destroy everything I've built up here. I'll pay you _real _good."

Another amused chuckle leaves the bounty hunter's vocalizer, "I don't deal in Dinobot matters, I've learned it's best to just let nature take its course against the sorry fraggers that were dim enough to slag one off." Turning away from the organic, Lockdown approaches the slab I'm on and waits while the mumbling Slaver unlocks the clamps holding me down.

In a fruitless endeavor, I make a quick move to leap from the table, grunting and growling as I'm easily caught under the bounty hunter's arm and slung over his shoulder. His spiked shoulder. Squirming uncomfortably, I left out a hissing huff of air, "Why am I not convinced that you and my Dad—if you really even knew him—were friends?"

Lockdown lets a laugh roll from him with a rusty sound, "Maybe you never knew what kind of friends your dad really had, kid."


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Alright, I had a ton of fun with this chapter, I hope ya'll have fun reading it! X) Just a quick sidenote, both Fera /and/ Nightbeat's character designs are going to be up on my DA profile this week, all I have left to do is finish coloring them ^_^ I've also got Siren's design in the works, and Hosehead will follow after all that. Hopefully I'll even get some pin-up works depicting some of the scenes from the story up, time will tell. X)

SezWho, I'm sorry if you had nightmares about the vision of Lockdown scratching himself, I hadn't realized how vividly Nightbeat's imagination would project itself onto my dear reader XD Thank you for the comment!

To all my great Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>What is it that brings others together? What can unite an entire stadium-full of bots? Many would say that a common goal or belief would do the trick. Idealists would claim peace is the ultimate bond.<p>

At this moment, Prowl would accept _violence_ as the answer.

The Gladiator Tournaments have done something that the High Council and all their petty efforts to unify Cybertron's lower-caste workers failed to. These tournaments have given them exactly what they want; a rush of adrenaline, backed by a primordial satisfaction attained at the sight of seeing steel torn apart and energon spilt. It is through violence and the desire, the _need _to witness it and partake in it, that brotherhood is formed amongst the tired souls of Cybertron.

Prowl will not make the mistake of believing their bodies to be as weary as their souls, however. It is upon the backs of these labor-class bots that cities have been raised, and by their hands that the sustenance needed to fuel both the mega-structures as well as the lives dwelling within has been mined. Yet, despite all they have done for their cities, it is by the powers that be that they are held down, forever condemned to their lowly status and lack of representation. Prowl is well aware of this strife, this conflict that manifests itself as a silent war, stirring restlessly in the minds and sparks of its victims.

However, it is this victim mentality that has led so many of these bots to a criminalist path. Day in and day out, he has heard the same plea and the same explanations from the bots he arrests in the lower sectors of Iacon. These bots are filled with a superior sense of entitlement, one that stretches beyond the bounds of reasonable and reality.

Yes, these bots of the lower-caste have been wronged by the system, they've been robbed of a better life and the means of attaining one. Yes, change needs to be made to enable anybot with ambition, no matter what their background, to go as high and as far as their willpower and skills can take them. That gives them no right, however, to impede upon the rights, the _life_, of another being.

There is no justice in the ways of the Gladiators, and now Prowl is the victim.

The Praxian's once-pristine armor is marred with broken metal and imploded plating, his own energon tarnishing the white surfaces. His helm is lowered, optics offlined as the ravenous, vengeful cheers of the onlookers in the stadium wash out in his audio receptors like waves of white noise. Despite the flood of input, his senses are all focused on something much lighter and quiet.

A set of slender peds fill Prowl's vision as he onlines his icy optics, the subtle sound of a twirling blade cutting through the air and the noise of the spectators. Overpowering everything, however, is the pounding question in his processor, _why?_

"Aren't you happy to see me, Prowl? It's been so long, after all… And you've yet to even speak a word of greeting to me." The femme's scarlet-toned lips curve into a smirk as she circles around her prey.

First Nightbeat, now Roulette—this doesn't make sense, where did Nightbeat go? How did the boy even _turn up_ here? And what of Roulette, how can she be here at all…?

And where did Downshift go?

A cracking kick to Prowl's jaw sends him reeling to the ground, earning a roar of approval from the populous stadium. Pushing himself up onto his knees, Prowl lifts his helm and looks to his attacker, "Roulette, I—I don't understand, why are you doing this?"

"Why not? It isn't every day that a girl gets such a prime opportunity to avenge herself." She looks nonchalantly at her fingertips as she speaks.

"Avenge…? What do you mean?"

The femme rolls her optics, "Must I spell it out for you? If it hadn't been for you and your little _brat_ friend, I wouldn't have perished in that Smelting Pool back in Kaon…" Her lips split into a biting grin as she approaches the downed mech.

Perished…? None of this is making any sense, and as far as he knows, resurrections aren't an everyday occurrence. What is going on in this subsurface stadium? Disappearing acts from his partner, random appearances of bots he thought he'd lost… Nightbeat's inexplicable strength… it's almost a little too convenient for Barricade's amusement, and it's obvious that this was all a set-up.

Just as the femme brings down her brandished dagger for another attack, Prowl's hand darts out and catches her by the wrist, bringing the assault to a halt. It doesn't take long for a close-quarter, all-out brawl to begin as the femme wrenches her hand free and attempts several jabs and knees to Prowl's chassis, only to have them parried or blocked. The audience begins to boo and curse in discontent at the change in pace, but are soon settled down as they become engrossed in the skillful offensive and defensive movements of the two fighters.

Whether or not this is truly the femme he gave his spark to seven years ago, Prowl isn't about to give his life to her as well. If it really is Roulette, she is clearly not the same femme he knew; rather, it would seem that she's a haunting phantom of her sister, bent on revenge for having her surrogate child taken and who knows what else. While the concept is quite abstract for his line of logic, there is also the chance that she herself is a surrogate, a different bot entirely who has somehow taken on the image of the familiar femme.

Prowl's line of defensive evasions are cut short as his impaired movements prove to give enough of an advantage to his opponent, and he's struck down hard. Intakes panting vents of air to cool his overriding systems, the white-clad Enforcer is unable to bring himself back to his peds this time, stumbling onto his side as his equilibrium component glitches and sparks in the base of his helm.

This is it. He only wishes he knew if the femme before him is the real one or not.

"Ya need a hand, buddy?"

Prowl freezes as yet another familiar voice reaches him, turning his helm quickly to look up and finds his closest friend towering over him, "Jazz?"

The enigmatic mech smiles in response and nods, "Frag, ya look like scrap, y'know that? Ah think maybe it'd be a _kinder _show of friendship t' just put you outta your misery." Twirling the same dagger that'd been used on the Praxian all evening, he kicks Prowl onto his back and pins him down with a ped on the other's chest.

Just as the mech raises the blade and goes in for the kill-strike, however, an audio-bursting bellow suddenly fills the stadium, freezing in place every bot dwelling inside.

The mech frowns, "What the Pit was that?"

Before anybot can voice their hypothesis, one of the walls of the fighting pit is burst apart by a massive, snarling form. Startled cries ring from the stadium as the familiar form of one of the most notorious, mercilessly brutal Gladiators takes shape as the smoke and dust clears. All at once, several voices scream a name from the chaos-stricken stands, **Grimlock!**

The powerful Dinobot shakes debris from his alt-mode's thick neck, crushing jaws gnashing in anticipation as he lines himself up with Prowl and his attacker. To Prowl's further surprise, a black helm pops out from around Grimlock's neck.

Prowl's optics flare in confusion as he looks up at the mech towering over him with a bloody dagger, then to the _same_ mech who's apparently been granted a ride on the Dinobot's back, "_**Jazz?**_"

The Jazz riding on Grimlock's back frowns deeply at the one towering over his wounded best friend, "Uh, a word of advice when tryin' to play my role? Ya gotta have a _lot_ more **swag**." With an encouraging _yah_, Jazz charges his Dinobot ride towards the two mechs, narrowly avoiding the Praxian as the stunned _look-alike Jazz_ is snatched in the Dino's unforgiving bite.

Prowl cringes and crosses his arms over himself protectively as the Dinobot's stomping peds barely miss him, lowering them to watch what follows. The mech in Grimlock's teeth begins to glitch until suddenly changing form—into Downshift! Another glitch, and the mech reverts into his natural form, one that bears the purple badge of Megatron's Gladiators.

"He was… a shapeshifter?" Prowl's CPU whirrs and struggle to process the newly attained information before he stops and looks up at the real Jazz—or is it?

Jazz looks down at his wounded friend and sighs, "Now don't ya go getting' paranoid on me, Ah'm the real deal, ain't no bot that can scat like this cat." Kneeling, he assesses the Praxian's wounds before offering a hand to help him up.

Prowl releases a vent of relief, "I do suppose you're the only one who can talk in a way that has sense yet makes none…" Accepting the hand, Prowl lets his friend help him up, leaning against him for support. His dry response earns a light chuckle, but the humor doesn't last long, "Barricade—"

"Is already long gone, Prowler," Jazz frowns lightly and sighs, "Ya really put yourself in too deep this time."

"How did you find me? How did you even know I was—"

"Ya ever heard of a Dinobot's tracking skills? Those mechs got a nose on 'em like a turbo fox's, and Ah just so happened to have one sittin' around in a cell with nothing better to do." Jazz raises an optic ridge, "And while ya think you're the sneakiest, most clever bot there is on the force, ya obviously forgot that _I'm_ the head of Special Ops. Ah have a trick or two about _hearing things._"

Prowl huffs and looks around the mostly-emptied arena, the spectators having taken a run for their money upon Grimlock's dramatic entrance. He grimaces lightly as he looks over to see Grimlock having a hay-day at the shapeshifter's chassis, the mech appearing to be unresponsive at this point, "Who is he?"

Jazz follows his friend's line of sight, "He's called _Makeshift_, my department's been trying to track him down for ages… and here he turns out to've been my best friend's partner."

Prowl swallows lightly at the title Jazz refers to him with, "I've not been much of a 'best friend' as of late, though…"

Jazz gives the Praxian a deadpan look, "Nope. But, it's a good thing you've got a friend that's such an amazing, forgiving, sophisticated—"

Prowl stares and gives the other a look, "I suppose you're going to be this way for a while now, aren't you?"

The Spec Ops bot is unfazed as he continues, "Devilishly handsome, talented, thoughtful…"

* * *

><p>"Stay on the ship."<p>

Fera's eyebrows furrow lightly as she stands from her co-pilot seat aboard the _Monacus_, "No, I'm coming with. You might need help… _bargaining._ I know the Slavers' kind better than you."

The mech in dark blue armor narrows his golden optics at the woman, "You also know that they've got an insatiable _greed_ for _your_ kind. You're a hot commodity in this quadrant of the galaxy. There's no way I'm letting them know about you."

Fera smirks, "You're not confident that they'll let me be, knowing I'm with _you_?"

The mech pauses, frowning sharply as the female clearly sets up a challenge against his mechlihood. He approaches the delicate organic and points his finger at her closely, "You can come, but you don't open yer pretty mouth unless I tell you to. Also, for the love of _Prima_, woman, _cover_ yourself?"

Fera smiles and chuckles quietly, but nods. Turning, she walks down the hallway leading to the separate living quarters and steps into her own, taking a long, hooded cape and puts it on over her rather scantily-clad self before returning to her companion's side, "Better?"

The mech stares at her for a moment, his optics blatantly landing on the front opening of the cape where her risqué neckline is all too apparent. He groans and takes a hold of the cape and pointedly closes it so that the woman's form is hidden beneath, "I mean it, woman, you're playing with fire here."

"And what if I am fire?" She teasingly slips her dainty hand up the mech's chest armor before smirking as she pushes him out of her way and goes to the entrance hatch of the ship.

The mech stares at the passing form, jaw agape for a moment at the audacious female's statement before he rubs his optics, "You're gonna be the death of me, lady."

"Actually, I'm the reason you're still alive, _metal man_."


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Okay, this chapter was a /blast/ to write, I'm really having fun with Fera and her mystery mech companion. There are a few dark dips in this one, but my aim is to give ya'll a look at some of the thoughts and struggles that goes through Nightbeat's head as he grows up and establishes how he feels about the universe in general.

Hehe Sez, I'm so glad that you're starting to grow a fond spot for Fera, she kind of blipped out of the story for a while, but I promise that she'll be taking a much stronger role now that she's back. ^_^

**Also, Nightbeat and Fera's designs for Sector Capri have both been posted up on my DA art profile, please take a look at them so you can have a mental image of 'em! Siren's design is in the making, he'll be along soon! You can find my work at RadoiJane . Deviantart . com (just take the spaces out, o'course XD )

To all my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Ya keep scowling like that, kid, and yer face is gonna get stuck like that."<p>

The bounty hunter's all-too-amused tone only makes me frown more as I stay seated in the co-pilot seat of the mech's massive ship. Unfortunately, I didn't get a glimpse of what the outside looks like, I was too busy having a bag smothered onto my helm. From the size of the navigation room alone, though… I can tell that this ship must be pretty impressive. Something tells me that I've crossed paths with this ship before—or, more specifically the _Veilleur _crossed paths with it, got shot down, and crash-landed onto a desert moon.

I'm not buying his story of being my father's friend for one klik, but maybe I should try playing along with his game. Namely so I can take full advantage of being on a working ship.

"My friend is still on the moon somewhere, I can't leave him." I figure he'll take that as a well enough excuse for my foul demeanor. After all, he just thinks I'm a bratty kid with the IQ of a turbofox. I can use that to my advantage as well.

Lockdown feigns contemplation over the matter before looking to me, "Listen, if your friend's still even _alive_ down there, Braid 'n his men will find him and call me. We'll go back for him, then."

"What's the rush? Somewhere else ya gotta be?" I narrow my optics at him, my visor (which was returned from the Slavers) shielding them.

Lockdown scoffs, his attention focused on navigating the ship away from the moon and through the surrounding asteroid field, "Yeah, kid, I actually do. Not that your friend isn't important—"

"He's just not as important as me and whatever your plans with me are. Right." I cross my arms and look up at the taller mech, "So if you're doing this for my _dad_, and I'm pretty sure that I'd know him well enough to make this assumption—don't you think he'd be a little upset that you ditched my closest friend?"

I can tell that I'm starting to annoy the mech as his lip twitches, "What _I_ think, kid, is that he's gonna be more concerned with seeing his _son_ after how many odd years of separation. Now listen, Braid's got men all over that moon, they'll find your friend. Alright?"

I begin to feel uneasy at the thought of Siren alone on that moon with Slavers after him. This mech isn't going to go back for him, nor is he going to be alright if and when the Slavers find him. We're only drifting further away from the moon, and I'm only wasting time at this point. I can't bring myself to believe that my father is still alive, and my mother told me always to trust my instincts. I also can't believe that this bounty hunter isn't planning to take me straight to Megatron himself.

So where does that land me? A tightly wound bundle of nerves—but apparently one important enough to send a bounty hunter after. Maybe I can use that.

"I gotta take a leak."

Lockdown blinks at the sudden, monotone statement and raises an optic ridge as he looks down at me from the pilot's seat, "Uh… Sure, kid, down that hall over there to the left. Make it fast, we're going through a spacebridge soon—and trust me, the last place on a ship you wanna be during a jump is in the drainer."

"Noted." I hop off the chair and take a few steps before glancing over, and as expected, I catch Lockdown watching my every move. Yeah, he's not up to anything good. Turning, I continue out of the nav station and down the hallway, pausing as I listen carefully to make sure the bounty hunter isn't getting up to check on where I am before heading further down the hall, skipping the "drainer" room. I check every door I pass by, every single one locked until I find one that isn't. I glance up and down the hallway before stepping into the dark room, my visor shedding some light against the wall as I search for a light switch.

Finding the switch, I flick on the light and take a look around the room—only to jolt and fall back against the wall at the sight. All around the room, hanging from the walls and stacked on shelves are—Cybertronian chassis parts! Hands, arms, legs, entire heads! As if I wasn't in enough trouble with this mech already, now I find out he's a psychopathic metal chopper!

Slowly, I venture further into the room, some kind of dark fascination drawing me in to take a closer look. Maybe it's this fascination that led my father to become a detective, and maybe I've got the same coding at the pit of my processor as he did. I doubt most bots are created with the thought process of "Oh, that's interesting, let's take a closer look" when stumbling upon a mass collection of hacked chassis pieces. I guess that explains why some bots aren't cut out for being cops.

Or am I over thinking it, just looking for an excuse for myself? From what I saw in the Gladiator arenas, it could be concluded that at the deepest, darkest corner of every spark is a wicked, depraved allure for violence and carnage. Cybertron has become a husk of its former self, maybe because those who inhabit it have become denizens of the malicious soul, hiding behind masks of power or excuses. The Gladiators were created from cries of injustice, yet instead of rising up from the ruins the powers that be left them in, they wallow in a primordial bath of gore; using their strife as their reasoning to justify it.

Maybe all of us are just animals trying to act like gods, defending our dark desires with laws and spoken words of good intentions. Look at how the impoverished are treated by the rich. Look at how politicians attack one another, how the crowds cheer at the bloodbaths preformed at political debates and in the fighting pits hidden beneath the cities.

Maybe I need to take a fragging chill pill and stop staring at the alien head plastered to the wall.

I wonder if my father ever had these horrible thoughts, damning an entire planet based off of a few dozen bad experiences and perceptions; one that I just so happen to be a part of. Mom always did tell me not to become too jaded too fast. With the things I've seen, I guess it's hard not to.

I pull myself away from the spectacle of thought-provoking butchery and head further through the room, optics locked on another doorway. Passing through it, I flick on another light before looking up at a tall set of cell bars. I step closer, the dim light not giving much of a glimpse into the cell, making it difficult to tell if it's occupied or not. Holding onto the bars, I squint my optics to peer into the dark cell, pausing as I swear I can see something move.

My curiosity is suddenly answered by a sharp set of snapping teeth that narrowly miss my hands as I retract them away from the bars. The surprise is enough to send me tumbling back onto my aft as steam and spit spews from the angry set of chompers.

"You no touch bars! Bars belong to me, Snarl! Me Snarl take off baby's hand!"

_Baby's _hand?

"Shhh!" I scrape myself up to my peds as I try calming the gnashing beast, looking around in paranoia, figuring there's barely any chance Lockdown hasn't heard the commotion, "Okay, okay, I won't touch your bars, just—shhh!"

The snarling beast puffs a mixture of steam and—and snot into my face as he walks in little circles before sitting down, "Snarl owns these bars, bars are Snarl's property."

Woah. Check out the nut job. Who knows how long he's been _in _those bars if he's taken a sacred vow to cherish and protect them like he apparently has.

"I—I get that, okay? Snarl's bars, not mine…" Huffing, I wipe off my face with a grimace, shaking off as much of the goo from my hand as I can afterwards, "Who are you? I mean—I'm assuming your name is _Snarl_, but… Where'd you come from?"

The large mech in the cell glares at me with a set of strangely familiar, fiery orange optics. His speech mannerisms are also a stark resemblance to that of… Grimlock.

"Me Snarl no have to talk to stupid baby child. Me Snarl saving energy."

"Saving energy for what?"

"For when Snarl's boss come to kick his aft."

I pause, "Your boss… What's his name?"

"His name is _'I need to take a leak' my aft._" Lockdown's voice suddenly sounds behind me.

Turning to face the mech, I flinch as his hook comes down and catches onto my back armor, lifting me up roughly, "I got lost!"

"No, kid, you got _too damn curious _for your own good." Lockdown grabs tightly onto the back of my neck as he kicks at the cell bars, the large mech behind them roaring furiously, "Ahh _shut up_, Dinobot _dud."_ Leaving the cell room, he drags me forcefully through the gory trophy room.

As is my nature, I put up a struggle every step of the way, scratching and digging at the hand grasping the scruff of my neck, "Thought you didn't _deal_ with Dinobot stuff!"

"Yeah, well, not when they're rampaging through an encampment, I don't. When they're already down and out, though, I'll scoop 'em up. The payout is sure as scrap worth it."

I grunt as Lockdown tosses me onto a metal slab in the unsettling room, kicking and throwing jabs as he pushes down one arm and leg at a time, strapping them down. My optics flare as I glance to the lopped off chassis parts and let out a short scream as my anxiety gets the better of me.

An amused chuckle leaves the slimy bounty hunter's vocalizer as he takes out a needle from a drawer, "You got the wrong idea, kid, I'm here to _help_ you, remember? You just need to _calm down_, you've been wandering through a desert, and now you've worked yourself up with little kiddy ghost stories. I'm not the boogie monster, Nightbeat, I'm your _friend_."

I fight against the clamps holding my limbs down as I look with wide optics to the advancing needle, "You're working for Megatron! You've never even _met_ my father, you probably _hunted_ him!"

Lockdown sighs and shakes his helm in mock regret, "You know, kid, I was really hoping that you and I would be able to work together on this." He chuckles, "I mean, do you _know_ how much ol' Megsy is putting up on the table for that little _relic_ he's searching for? Next thing I know, he's setting up bounties galore for some snot-nosed punk like you, acting like a bat outta the Pit. Now, I know Megatron, and I know that normally he's a lot more subtle when making it a point of what he wants. So, putting two and two together—I figure that _you_ must have some kind of key to finding Megatron's _holy grail_.

"Of course it would've been a lot smoother and probably more pleasant to've worked _with_ you to find it, because, frankly kid, I _do_ know how smart you are. I've heard plenty enough tales of horror from the idiot thugs down in Kaon, and I _do_ know a thing or two about where you get your smarts from."

I scoff weakly, watching as the mech gestures with the needle in his hand during his spiel, "Oh yeah? And why should I believe that?"

Lockdown smiles sharply, "Because, kid, I really _did _know your father. I knew him real well, in fact."

The bounty hunter's glee is practically leaching from his sneering mug as he observes the uncertain look on mine.

"I was his partner, kid." With a final laugh, he pries off a piece of my shoulder armor with his hook to expose the softer protoform plating beneath, bringing the needle around.

I'm about to unleash a slur of curses at the dirty fragger—but a much louder voice cuts me off.

"**NOW!"**

I nearly offline from sheer shock (and a healthy serving of horror) as Siren suddenly emerges from a supply closet—but he's not alone, there's a red mech with him, looks about our age.

"Siren!"

Yeah, I just screamed like a chick in distress for that adorable, harmless little kid-bot that is Siren. He's not gonna let me forget it, either. Assuming we make it out of here.

"What the—_frag_?" Lockdown shares my shock as he turns around to see the stowaways, letting out a sharp hiss as a spear—yes, a _spear_—stabs into his back, "As if one brat wasn't enough! C'mere, I got a _special_ shot a' medicine for you two slaggers!" Dropping the needle, the bounty hunter reels on my two potential rescuers with his hook.

* * *

><p>"I told ye, I got a bloody <em>raging<em> Dinobot on me hands, I got no time—or love—for you and yer sorrows." Braid shifts uncomfortably on the ground outside the Slaver encampment, tied up in a set of chains.

Fera rolls her eyes as she watches her dark blue companion tilt his helm, the mech speaking, "Y'know, Braid, that really smarts. I mean, _really_. It does. And it _especially_ hurts, because that means that you, my dear, ugly friend—you have to be punished for talking to me that way, in front of the lady, even. And that hurts _me,_ Braid, it really does, because I don't like hurting friends." The mech kneels and looks to the organic slaver at optic-level.

Braid looks the dark blue mech over with an uneasy glare before turning his attention to Fera, buggy eyes scanning up and down her form, "Oi, and a lady she is, indeed. Where'd you find a thing like 'er?"

Fera smirks and tilts her head in a cute gesture as she walks closer, locking eyes with Braid as he hardly holds back his drool, "Where am I from, you ask?" She suddenly cracks the steel-pointed toe of her high-heeled boot across the slaver's face, sending it straight into the dirt. With a cool air about herself, she steps sharply on one of Braid's ear flaps, grinding it a little as the lizard-like creature hollers in protest.

The dark blue mech takes his turn to roll his gold optics before stepping in and lightly pulls the firecracker woman away from their prisoner.

Fera scoffs, "I can be from your darkest dreams or your worst _nightmares_, lizard breath."

The mech smirks as his pretty companion runs her hand through her hair in a feminine, indignant gesture. He then redirects his attention to Braid, again kneeling by the now-battered feller, "Ya see what happens, Braid? When you act like an idiot, I have to sick my woman friend on you. Why you gotta make me do that to you? Not that I expect you to have any dignity left _anyways_, but now you're looking pretty pathetic—in front of such a pretty girl."

"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" Fera smirks at her companion.

Braid coughs up some dirt before growling furiously, "A hideous _banshee_ is what she is! Ye brainless ninny woman! I'll cut yer heart out—!" A blunt smack to the back of his head from the mech sends Braid's face once more colliding with the dirt, open mouth receiving another fill of it.

The mech sighs, "Alright, _Ignoramus the Third_, another outburst like that and I'll start counting your teeth—the ones that'll be missing, that is."

"Make him apologize, otherwise I might kill him before he can tell us anything useful." Fera crosses her arms and speaks with a pouty lip, puppy eyes gazing down at her companion, feigned innocence deceiving her words.

The mech smiles brightly at her, "Sure thing, doll face." He tilts his helm and lifts up Braid's battered head by the strange flaps of excess skin framing his face, "You heard the lady. Fess up, or you'll be strung up."

Braid coughs out more dirt and hisses before flinching at a tightened grip on the back of his head, "Eeeh, okay, aye! Take the 'abusive interrogator' a notch down, we go a long way back!"

The mech is unmoved, "You forget how long Cybertronians _live_, idiot, you're hardly a blink in my dramatic lifetime flashbacks."

The Slaver growls before looking up at Fera.

Fera taps the toe of her high-heeled boot against the ground in waiting, "Well?"

Another growl, and Braid talks, "Yer a _gooorgeous _creature, a likeliness of the _Fair Maiden of the Western Galaxy_ herself, and ye probably have at least _half_ a brain." He releases a muffled grunt as his face is again smashed into the dirt.

Fera smirks, "I guess that's the best I'm going to get out of him."

The mech chuckles, "I know where you stand on the 'brain scale', this waste of bio matter doesn't know who he's crossin'. Do ya, Braid?" Lifting the lizard alien's face once again from the dirt, the mech grins, "I hope you're learning fast how much trouble you're in if you don't stop the run-around and tell us what we wanna know, Braid. I _honestly_ don't wanna hurt you."


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: I really got into today's chapter, I could've probably kept writing for the rest of the day! But then, it never would've gotten posted for ya'll, so I brought it to a nice lil cliffhanger as usual XD

Sez- Thank you for another wonderful review, and indeed Nightbeat has perhaps met his match!

Blackpanther- Thank you for your reivew, I'm glad you liked Snarl's possessiveness with his bars XD

To my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>It had seemed like a perfect plan at first. Siren and Hosehead had made their way through the Slavers' encampment, staking out and listening around until they discovered where Nightbeat was being held. Apparently, Slag had gotten bored of waiting and had decided to begin his rampage through the encampment without waiting for the signal, leaving Siren and Hosehead with no choice but to make a rush for the ship where Nightbeat was being taken to.<p>

The next step in the already-crumbling plan had been to stowaway on the ship and wait for everything to quiet down, to wait for an opportunity when the bounty hunter would be in the least threatening position before revealing themselves. Siren hadn't been able to hold back his war cry, however, when he'd heard Nightbeat's desperate shouts—thus, another plan was sprung prematurely.

Sparks shower down from the wall as Lockdown's hook drags a deep gash through it, narrowly missing Siren's ducking helm. Curses and shouts fill the air amidst the chaotic brawl, the long arms of the bounty hunter lashing out while the speedy peds of his smaller opponents dart them out of harm's reach.

Hosehead grunts as he's winded by a swift knee to his midsection, stumbling away before brandishing a dagger, his turquoise optics alit with a near-insane rage. Lockdown raises an optic ridge at the fiery look and growls, shoving Siren away by his face before planting his peds down in ready as the red mech charges him. The red-clad Colonist evades the bounty hunter's hook before managing to bury his blade deep into the bundle of exposed wires nestled in the nook between the large mech's neck and shoulder.

Lockdown lets out a sharp roar at the vicious wound, but takes the advantage of Hosehead's resulted nearness and grabs him tightly around the neck with his long hand, "That one's gonna cost you yer arms, you little slagger!"

Kicking his peds helplessly as he's lifted from the ground, Hosehead glares at the bounty hunter, "Not if you can't use your own!" In a swift series of clicks, the two pistols mounted on the sides of Hosehead's helm rotate and take aim at Lockdown's shoulders, each delivering a precision blast of bright red lasers that go straight through their targets.

Siren yelps as he stands up from the ground behind the bounty hunter, dodging the two lasers as they almost hit him after going through Lockdown's shoulders. Seems like Hosehead could use to learn the aspect of collateral damage. From Nightbeat's distressed shouts, it would seem that he agrees.

Lockdown snarls and drops the red mech as energon spews from his shoulders, "Just keep pushin' me, you little fragger, it'll only make it that much sweeter for me when I've got you where I want ya!"

Hosehead dodges a heavy fist before jolting as he's struck by a bright yellow flash of light that sends him crashing to the ground, conscious but unable to move. Turning his flickering optics as far upward as he can, he sees the source of the blast—an EMP generator locked on the bounty hunter's forearm. He cringes as he strains himself as he tries to move, "S-Siren—shoot him!"

Lockdown chuckles darkly as he turns on the pale blue mech, towering over him as he draws near with his hook, giving his EMP generator a rest in exchange for the opportunity to be amused by the small mech's attempts to rescue his little friends. Siren's optics flare brightly as he backs away quickly, gasping as his back hits a shelf of 'trophies'. It's now or never.

"Siren, shoot him!"

Siren's spark races as he hears Nightbeat's voice ring through the tense air and shoots his hand to the subspace compartment in his hip, drawing the blaster his friend gave him and lifts it—but freezes up. It's only a nano-klik of hesitance, but it's all that the bounty hunter needs.

Lockdown cackles as he roughly strikes the weapon out of the small mech's hand before seizing Siren by his arm, taking notice of the youngling's missing hand, "Guns don't seem to be your forte, kid, maybe I could set you up with a little something like this?" He holds up his hook and laughs at Siren's petrified expression.

He failed—Siren thought that he had what it would take to shoot a bot, one that meant harm to him or his friends. It happened so fast, his gun was taken from him before he could even squeeze the trigger. He hesitated. He couldn't take a life, and because of it, he and his friends may lose their own.

This mech is going to kill them, and he's going to do it slowly, Siren has no doubt of this. No more Nightbeat, no more Hosehead—they'll be gone forever, never to see one another again in the realm of the living. He failed.

Nightbeat clenches his teeth tightly as he screams furiously at the bounty hunter, thrashing violently against the table he's clamped down on, "Leave them alone! I'm the one you want, I'll—I'll give Megatron what he wants, just leave them alone!"

Lockdown lifts Siren by his arm and grins over at Nightbeat, "You lost your chance to negotiate with me, kid. Megatron will get what he wants either way, and I'm gonna get to have a little fun now that I have a pair of nameless faces that no bot will miss."

Siren feels his tanks churn and sink as the energon rushes to his helm. He can't rely on Nightbeat's help, not this time. Something begins to rise in the small mech's core, and quickly it begins to burn like nothing he's ever felt. Taking in a deep, slow breath, Siren's intakes expand until his chest feels tight enough to burst. Lockdown's attention is drawn to him, just as an audio-piercing scream suddenly erupts from the core of his vocalizer.

Nightbeat and Hosehead both wince and cry out in pain as their audios are washed out and nearly burst from the sonic scream leaving the pale blue mech, both unable to bring their hands up to protect their sensitive receptors. Lockdown's optics flare wildly in shock before the red lenses shielding their inner mechanics shatter from the pounding waves of sound. Dropping the youngling, the bounty hunter claps his hand and hook over his audios, energon and sparks seeping from them.

In the cell room next door, Snarl roars and stomps about madly, transforming into his Dinobot alt-mode as the deepest of his primal senses are sent spiraling out of control from the unbearable noise. Just as Siren's scream is cut off as he falls onto his aft, the massive Dinobot suddenly musters up enough raw power from his disturbance to smash through the bars of his cell—and keeps charging.

Nightbeat flickers on his optics, dazed from the sonic scream that nearly sent him into stasis lock before feeling his chassis tense up at the sight of a massive Dinobot crashing through the wall separating the trophy room from the cell room—this is gonna hurt. Bracing himself, Nightbeat holds on (or pretends to) as the table he's clamped down to is sent flipping over onto its side on the other end of the room as Snarl's heavy form collides with it.

Lockdown releases an infuriated roar as he gathers enough of his wits to realize that all Pit has just broken loose on his ship. However, he doesn't realize it fast enough as he's nearly skewered on one of Snarl's horns and is sent flying through a wall to the hallway beyond the trophy room. Filled with the rush of attaining his freedom and still in a frenzy from Siren's startling sonic scream, the Dinobot aims for the bounty hunter, scuffing his peds on the floor before puffing steam from his nostrils and storms forward.

Hosehead, still paralyzed on the floor, lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched scream as he sees the Dinobot charging his way—almost springing a leak as Siren grabs his arm and drags him out of the way just in time before the metal-crushing peds stomp down on him. Gathering Hosehead up into his arms as much as he can, Siren drags the red mech quickly to the overturned table Nightbeat is still stuck on.

All three of the young mechs jolt as the sounds of Snarl and Lockdown hurtling through several more walls pain their already-raw audio receptors. Siren grabs his discarded blaster from the floor and takes aim at the first clamp holding down Nightbeat's left ankle.

Nightbeat's golden-orange visor flashes as he gasps, "Wait! What the frag do you think you're gonna do with _that_ thing? You'll—!" He yelps as his friend is unmoved as the blaster is fired, blinking as he finds his ankle is now freed and unscathed. The midnight blue mech braces himself as the remaining clamps are shot off before he slides freely from the sideways table. Gathering himself onto his knees, Nightbeat grabs Siren into a tight embrace, "I thought—I thought you—"

Siren blushes at the mushy sound in his best friend's voice and returns the embrace, "I never lost faith in you, Beat. I'm… sorry if I lost yours." Looking to one another's optics, the two young mechs hold gazes for a moment before a third face pops into their view.

Hosehead raises an optic ridge as he looks between the other two bots, "Listen, if you two wanna go hug it out in the corner—then by all means, do so. But how about first we find someplace where we don't have to worry about Captain Hook or Stompy the Angry Dino-Freak?"

Nightbeat's lip twitches into a light snarl at the stranger's smart-aft intrusion, but then reminds himself that it's probably thanks to the red mech that Siren is here at all. He nods his helm, "Alright, we're gonna find an escape pod and get off this ship, there's no way that it'll end well for us if we stick around—no matter which one of those two win, we're gonna end up diced 'n sliced if they get us."

Standing, Nightbeat leads his two battered companions out of the trophy room, all three helms turning curiously in the direction of the clashing thuds and shouts, hoping to get a glance of the bounty hunter getting his aft handed to him; unfortunately, they've moved into another section of the ship, out of view. The trail of destroyed walls and charred floors, however, is testament enough to what Lockdown must be dealing with.

Running down a long hallway to the back of the ship, it takes little searching to find where the escape pods are; thanks to Wheeljack's weekly lessons on ships, Nightbeat knows how to find the general location of where things are kept on ships, no matter what size or shape they may be.

Nightbeat pushes Siren down into one of the seats of the small pod, buckling him down, "Make sure this is on real tight, we might still be in an asteroid field, it could get bumpy."

Siren whines quietly in protest to the paternal treatment, pushing Nightbeat's hands away so he can adjust the safety belts himself, "M'kay."

Hosehead squints his optics behind his translucent visor in uncertainty, "An _asteroid_ field? What exactly is the _plan_ here? We shoot ourselves out into a 'field, hope to Primus that we don't get obliterated by a collision with a space rock, and then what? You got some kind of _cavalry_ out there lookin' for you two? We could be trapped out there for who knows how long! The closest place that this pod _might_ have enough energy to reach is the moon we just came from—and I'm pretty sure we won't have a _nice_ welcome party waiting for us there!"

Nightbeat frowns at the red mech, feeling his position as 'team leader' being challenged, "Stop runnin' yer trap for a klik and listen—somebot will come for us, we've got… friends in this part of the galaxy."

Hosehead scoffs, "Oh yeah? Seems to me like you and your friend here have a lot of the opposite, Siren here has told me plenty about what you two have been up to. Yeah, so don't treat me like I don't know—you're full of hot air!"

Nightbeat nearly snaps on the red mech but instead directs a sharp glance to Siren, "So you're telling our life story to strangers? You're not even drunk this time!"

"Hey, don't treat _me_ like your enemy, _I'm_ the only reason _either_ of you are still alive!" Hosehead steps up into Nightbeat's space, having just enough extra height on the other to look down at him.

"Guys, stop! Are you _seriously_ doing this right now?" Siren's protest is cut off as he receives two equally heated glares from the clashing mechs.

Nightbeat looks up at Hosehead, pointing his finger up at the red Colonist, "I don't care _what_ you think you know, I'm telling you right now—we have someone out there who _will_ come for us. Now, either you can have it your way and stick _around_ and wait for 'Captain Hook and Stompy', or you can come with us. If you _do_ come with us, though, you're gonna do things _my_ way, got it?"

Hosehead narrows his optics down at Nightbeat and scoffs with a sharp, angry smirk, "Oh, is that right? Y'know, kid, you have a lot of bark for one so small. Primus, are all Cybertronians so sure of themselves?" Walking past Nightbeat, he brushes arms a bit roughly with the other mech before sitting in the pod, "You better have the bite to back it up."

Nightbeat frowns at Hosehead, "Call me kid one more time. You hardly look any older than either of us, so step off the high 'n mighty act. They'll come for us." Stepping inside the pod, Nightbeat sits down between Hosehead and Siren before initiating the escape protocols.

Just before the hatch door of the pod closes, however, a hook suddenly snaps around and keeps it pried open. Siren gasps and presses himself as far back against his seat as he can as Lockdown's mangled form comes into view in the pod's doorway. The pod's countdown to launch continues as the bounty hunter forcibly keeps the hatchway open, murderous optics focused on his target, gored hand reaching in towards Nightbeat.

Hosehead hisses between his clenched teeth and pulls out a dagger, stabbing it into the older mech's reaching hand, drawing a pained shout from him. Lockdown's patience snaps as he blocks the escape pod's hatch from closing with his body as he darts his hook-end appendage forward, digging it into Nightbeat's leg before he starts pulling the dark blue and yellow mech out. Nightbeat's hands scrape along the floor of the pod as he's yanked towards the opening, optics flaring behind his visor as he shouts in protest.

Siren screams in terror as he grabs onto Nightbeat's hand, fighting against Lockdown's stronger pull. Hosehead pulls Siren back, forcing him to let Nightbeat go as the escape pod's hatch suddenly closes as Lockdown manages to pry his prey out and steps out of the hatch's path. Both of the young mechs bang their fists against the escape pod's closed hatch, trying to find a way to get out to assist their missing companion. As the launch countdown comes to an end, however, both Siren and Hosehead are pressed against the wall of the pod by the force of its propulsion as it jettisons away from the main ship.

"**We have to go back for him!"** Siren continues to bang his fist against the hatch of the pod, frantic and afraid.

"We will, just—just calm down! We'll get him, we just gotta figure out how to _fly_ this thing!" Quickly sitting at the controls of the pod, Hosehead chews on his lip anxiously, unfamiliar with the format of the pod's navigation systems.

Aboard the sharp, blood red ship, Nightbeat struggles and kicks in Lockdown's hold, screaming and biting at whatever he can get a hold of as he's dragged down the hallway. Lockdown growls and throws him onto the floor, stomping a heavy ped onto the youngling's chest to hold him down as his EMP generator folds up and locks itself onto his forearm.

"You're gonna make up for every single trophy that I've lost because of you. Megatron didn't say what _parts_ of you he needed, and I don't think he's gonna miss the majority of 'em."

With a bright flash of yellow light from the paralyzing weapon, Nightbeat feels his entire form go lax, his vision blurring and getting black around the edges. Strangely enough, it's almost… pleasant. He can't remember the last time he was this relaxed, when there wasn't some part of his chassis taut and stressed to the near-point of fracturing.

Lockdown continues to talk, but the words don't really matter anymore, Nightbeat's mind is focused on the calm, content feeling of knowing that Hosehead and Siren are going to be okay. The bounty hunter doesn't need those two, he won't waste his time going after them. Hosehead seems like a capable-enough mech, he can get Siren to somewhere safe, maybe even all the way back to Cybertron. Siren's smart, he'll know what to do, he's taught him everything he needs to get home.

Just as Nightbeat prepares to allow his processor to slip into recharge, his senses are brought up several notches as a dark blue form suddenly steps up behind Lockdown. A set of blazing, golden optics light up from the blue mech's face, a raised gun pressing to the base of the bounty hunter's neck.

"You've got something that belongs to me, Lockdown. I'm taking him."

_That voice… so familiar… so far away, but so… familiar… _

Lockdown freezes as he feels the cold metal of the barrel dig into the back of his neck, his shattered optics flickering in silent rage, "You've got rheanimum-coated diodes, coming aboard my ship again. You think this kid is worth it?"

The dark blue mech frowns sharply, "You have no idea what this kid is worth to me."

* * *

><p>My vision blurs in and out, pieces of what happens next missing from my memory drive.<p>

Strong, warm arms slowly curve under my knees and around my back, lifting me from the floor. My cheek is cushioned on a rounded piece of shoulder armor that could easily be wider than my own chest. Golden light fills my vision as the mech holding me turns his focus my way, and my visor naturally retracts to reveal my matching pair of gold optics. His midnight blue helm frames a solid, chiseled face that I know I've seen before, but I'm just too tired to place it right now.

I'm not sure how long I stare at him, but it isn't long before he smiles at me, "Hey, kid. Look how big you are… Your mother must feed you well."

My voice catches in my throat for a moment as I feel my optics begin to burn, blurring my vision even more, masking the mech in further mystery, "Dad…?"


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: Sorry for the late post! The power's been going out all day, and I've got a laptop battery that dies two minutes after being unplugged XD;

SezWho- I'm glad you were amused by Siren's situation with his two superiority-complex partners, I hope I'm doing well in shaping out Hosehead's personality (as I'm pretty much making it from scratch XD). Thank you, daahhling!

Blackpanther - I can't help it, I have to end every chapter with a cliffhanger, it'd be no fun to end things with closure! Thanks for your review!

To all my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy! ^_^

* * *

><p>A low hum resonates through the large, dark hangar, the air cold. Prowl walks along quietly around a decent-sized ship—a space-worthy ship. So this is what Sentinel has been hiding from him, an entire armada of vessels that are both worthy of space and of war. These would probably be the first line of defense against a foreign invading force—but why keep them secret? Perhaps letting the existence of the ships be known would incite unrest amongst the citizens of Cybertron, who know good and well that travel beyond the atmosphere is forbidden.<p>

Perhaps Sentinel just wanted to keep Prowl under his control.

The white-clad Praxian turns his helm and looks over to a mech adorned in Special Ops armor, "You've known about these ships here? All this time?"

Jazz raises an optic ridge, "Ah know a lotta things that you probably don't, Prowl. It's my job. That's why Ah wish you'd just start comin' to me whenever you've got a problem like this, cuz Ah'm the best resource that you got." Walking over, he opens the hull of the ship before glancing to his friend, "You sure you wanna do this?"

Prowl frowns lightly in determination and nods, "Positive."

A rumbling growl sounds from behind the two mechs as Grimlock's towering form steps out from the shadows towards the ship, "Didn't want any extra passengers, Praxian."

"Yes, well there's nothing you can say or do to change the fact; I'm coming with you. There's no telling what Nightbeat has gotten himself into… There may be need for a _clear-thinking_ mind, and less so for a set of pounding fists."

Grimlock scoffs, "If the kid got himself into what I think he did, he's gonna need a lot more than Praxian's squishy processor." The Dinobot's massive arm shoves Prowl aside as he enters the ship.

Prowl's door panels jitter in vexation for a moment before he looks to Jazz, "Jazz, while I'm gone… Makeshift may not have been the only mole in the system, and I—"

Jazz interrupts him, "Ah've got it covered, Prowl, you're leaving the home front in good hands. You just get those kids back where they belong, alright?" Reaching out, he holds his friend's shoulder, the two lifelong friends locking optics for a moment before nodding.

"Thank you, Jazz…" Turning, Prowl steps up the entrance ramp and boards the ship, closing up the hatch before walking to the cockpit. He pauses and raises an optic ridge in disbelief when he finds Grimlock to be sitting in the pilot's seat, "Oh, really?"

Grimlock grunts in reply, "Praxian like you probably never flown a real ship, only pretend-flown in training game." He turns his helm, red visor gleaming in satisfaction to find the Praxian unable to return the argument, "What I thought."

Prowl frowns and sits in the co-pilot's seat, "And I suppose you're a hardened veteran in the area?"

Grimlock onlines the controls before dropping his fist on the thrust controls, "Nope."

The Praxian's mouth drops agape in shock, but before he can begin his verbal assault on the Dinobot, the ship lurches forward, smashing through one of the hangar walls before shooting up towards the stars.

Jazz rubs the back of his helm as he observes the considerable hole in the hangar wall, wondering how he's going to explain it to his superiors before letting his optics follow the ship in the far distance, "Ya owe me big time for this one, Prowler…"

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, kid, c'mere."<em>

_His voice was always raspy, like he'd been laughing a lot, or like he'd been drinking a lot._

"_Look how big you're gettin', I can hardly carry ya!" He laughed as he lifted a small, midnight blue sparkling into his arms, "I missed you, son… I'm sorry I was gone so long, we had a really hard case this time…"_

_The child hugged his father's neck, content just to have him home again. _

"_You been good for your mother? Uh?" He smiled as his son nodded to him, "Good, that's good. You're a good boy, Nightbeat." _

_A kiss was pressed to the child's cheek, and the little one wiped it, earning another chuckle from his father._

"_How about you 'n me go down to the channel, skip some stones? Yeah, just you 'n me, kid. Cuz you're my favorite boy."_

I gasp lightly as my optics flicker on, my vision blurry with liquid for a moment. A sharp cough vents through my intakes as I try to move, and I jolt when I feel a large, warm hand gently press against my chest to keep me lying down. Raising my hand to block the bright light glowing above, I struggle to see where I am, whose hand is on me.

"Take it easy, kid, you're alright now…" A deep, raspy voice whispers.

Taking a moment, I let my air circulation slow down to an easy rhythm, a cold sweat gripping my face and neck. I'm anxious and nervous. I'm scared even. I can't get my hopes up, I won't. Only, I think it's too late for that now.

After a few moments of silence, the hand slides away from my chest and moves to my back, helping me sit up. My vision is still blurry from Lockdown's EMP generator, and my chassis sways lightly as I sit up, my words slurring a bit as I speak, "My friends…"

"They're here, too. They're in the next room, Fera's taking care of them. Your little friend—the blue one, Siren… he been missing that hand for long?"

"Missing his—hand?" My equilibrium decides to give at the startling news and I nearly fall off the berth I've been placed on, but a set of large hands keep me upright. Siren lost a hand? It must've been the one that dark stone was lodged into…

"Yeah, but no worries, kid, Fera's settin' him up with a new one, he's gonna be just fine… Seems like the red one, Hosehead, knew what he was doing when he made the cut. Probably saved the lil kid's life."

Hosehead… I don't know anything about that mech, but already he's done a lot for me and Siren. Why? Where'd he come from? Who is he? How did he and Siren even cross paths, and why did he tag along?

I shake my helm lightly in an attempt to clear my vision. Slowly, I reach my hand out and lightly touch the arm of the tall mech standing in front of me. He must notice the way I'm shivering, and he leans forward, wrapping his arms around me suddenly. I tense at the unexpected gesture, uncertain, but then my exhaustion wins as I let myself sink into the hold, resting my forehead on the mech's broad shoulder.

"You've been through a lot, huh kid…"

I can only take in a sharp, trembling breath of air in response, unable to speak. What do you say to a bot that you've thought was dead for the past decade? It takes me a moment to notice a quiet, strange sound is leaving my vocalizer. Something I haven't heard myself make in a long time.

I'm crying.

The arms hold me closer as my cheeks burn, cold tears leaving trails of smudged dirt across them. A steady, deep sparkbeat drums in the wide chest of the mech, the sound of it so familiar.

So familiar… yet at the same time… not.

I feel a sudden tightness in my gut, a knot twisting and burning coldly like a ball of molten steel. Something isn't right. This mech, everything about him seems so familiar, but something just doesn't match up.

The mech realizes my hesitance and slowly releases me from his hold and bends over a bit so we're optic-level, his golden optics reflecting my own. Slowly, my vision finally clears, and I can see his face.

My voice is squeezed in my throat, leaving it in a whisper, "You're not him… You're not the Capri Detective…"

The mech's face scrunches up a bit in a look of guilt as he rests his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "Not exactly, kid…"

* * *

><p>Fera nibbles on her lip as she tries to concentrate on soldering the delicate wires in Siren's wrist, making the final calibrations and attachments for the youngling's new hand. It's difficult, however, with the pale blue mech's non-stop chatter.<p>

"And so when Orion said the sphere map thingy was made of this super rare ore that only came from one quadrant of the galaxy, Nightbeat decided that it'd be the best trail to follow. That's kinda crazy, don't ya think? I dunno why he thinks going the place where the sphere was made would make sense, and what if it wasn't really _made _there, what if the ore was shipped to another planet and then the sphere was constructed there instead? Does it matter more where the sphere was made or where the materials came from? Either way, I dunno why it even matters." Siren's optics glance around the medical infirmary of the _Monacus _as he speaks_, _looking anywhere but at the gorgeous woman repairing him.

"Well, you said the sphere needs a special kind of tool to read the map, right? He probably figures they'd have the right kind of technology to do that wherever it came from." Hosehead glances over to the chatty mech before returning his attention to the wounds he's treating on himself.

Siren pauses, "Yeah… Yeah, I guess that makes sense, but I don't know if it even matters now."

Fera blinks and glances up to the young mech's face from her work, "Oh? Why not?"

Siren blushes as he meets the woman's emerald green gaze, "Well, um, because… We found the Capri Detective, right? Your partner is Nightbeat's dad… he's the one who gave Nightbeat the map in the first place, so he'll know what it leads to. There's really no need to go through all the extra trouble now…"

Fera tilts her head, "Actually… I'm not so sure."

"About what?" Hosehead raises an optic ridge and looks over to the woman.

"I'm not so sure that the Detective knows what that map leads to… It's one of the reasons he's been looking for your friend."

Hosehead frowns lightly, "What? That doesn't make any sense, why would _he _not know what's on the map? He's the one that _gave_ it to Nightbeat, right?"

A look of concern crosses Siren's face, "Yeah, why else would he have given it to Nightbeat if he didn't even know what it was? And…" Siren pauses, voice becoming quiet as he becomes deep in thought, confused, "Why hasn't he tried making contact with Nightbeat sooner?"

A sudden crack from the next room over pulls the attention of the three to the door of the private medical room. Fera stands and goes to the door, opening it and looking in, "Is everything alright—? Oh!"

Siren and Hosehead quickly stand and go to the doorway to see what the commotion is, optics widening as they enter just in time to see Nightbeat's fist meet the jaw of the tall mystery mech in dark blue armor.

"**Nightbeat!"** Siren charges forward and rams his shoulder into the tall mech, effectively shoving him a few steps away from Nightbeat. Taking a protective stance in front of the berth his friend is on, the small bot glares up at the dark blue one, "What'd you do to him?"

The mech catches himself on his peds as he's shoved away by the small, loud-mouthed kid, wiping a smudge of energon away from his lip as he locks his jaw back into place, "I didn't do anything, kid, take it easy!"

Fera catches Hosehead's arm as the red Colonist takes a step forward to join the intervention, "Hold it, Red, let's find out what the deal is." She huffs as Hosehead pulls his arm free of her hold.

"You **lied** to me! You sick fragger!" Nightbeat's shout suddenly interrupts the confusion in the air.

Fera's eyes widen as she looks to her partner, "What is he talking about?"

The dark blue mech shakes his helm and frowns, "Stay outta this, Fera."

Nightbeat roughly wipes the dirty stains from his cheeks away and clenches his teeth, "You're just another dirty _bounty hunter!_ How do you know so much about me? Why the frag do you have _this?" _He holds up a crystal cube that has a laser-etched image of himself as a sparkling, something that his father did, indeed, own.

"Kid, you gotta calm down, listen—your father _gave_ that to me! I've had it for years!"

"_**Liar!**_ You probably _mugged_ it offa him! Or—Or you probably stole it! You work with Lockdown, don't you?" Nightbeat takes another swing as the tall mech tries getting near him again, Siren contributing a kick to the dark blue mech's shin, earning a growl.

"Stop it, kid, you're not thinking straight!"

Fera frowns sharply and steps up, shooting a sharp glare at her companion in dark blue, "Shut up, Devcon, and just tell him the truth—tell us _all_ the truth!"

Nightbeat's optics flare and widen as he pauses, a heavy silence dropping like a ton of dead weight, "Devcon?"

The dark blue mech looks to the young Sector Capri native and nods, optics dim, "Yeah, kid. Sorry I never sent you any birthday cards."


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Bit of a short chapter this week, I've been keeping myself pretty busy with things, but I hope ya'll enjoy ^_^

Thank you SezWho and Blackpanther for your comments, they continue to bring grins to my face XD Also, to Sez, I hope all is going well for you and that you're getting comfy in your new setting ^_^

On a final note, I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here before, but I've started up an "Ask Nightbeat" account on Tumblr for anyone interested in chattin' up our favorite detective X) I've also just started an "Ask Cyclonus" XD

To all my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Lockdown has failed me."<p>

Soundwave turns his expressionless mask towards the source of the deep voice, "Reports indicate that the target has boarded a new ship—the _Monacus_."

Megatron growls lowly, his fists tightening as they sit primly behind his back, his red gaze focused on the vast expanse of space beyond the window, "Devcon. I should have known he had a part in this. I take it, then, that Starscream's paranoid testimonies in regards to the _'Capri Detective' _had some legitimacy." He turns away from the window and walks along the wide corridor of his warship, heading towards the command bridge with his loyal lieutenant in tow, "It seems that the members of this Capri family need to be killed more than once if they are to stay dead."

"What are your orders, Lord Megatron?"

The dark lord stops on the command bridge and rubs his chin in thought, "We have limited resources in this quadrant of the galaxy… however, now that we know where the key to finding Trypticon's transformation cog is, we can direct all Seeker forces to converge upon it." He turns his helm to Soundwave, "Send for Starscream. Tell him he has a chance now to redeem himself for his recent failures."

* * *

><p>"Devcon."<p>

The woman's voice is unheard—or perhaps ignored—by said mech as he holds a cold cube of highgrade against his swollen jaw, "Frag, that kid's got a mean right hook… Hn, my brother had one just like it, talk about déjà vu…"

"Answer me." Fera's emerald eyes turn into sharp slits as she crosses her arms and leans her weight onto her hip; never a good posture to see on a fiery woman with an attitude like hers.

Devcon huffs and glances over to his companion, frowning lightly, "What was the question?"

"You told me that you were his father. You lied to me."

"I never lied to you, Fera, and I never said he was my _son_. I told you that he was my _boy…_" Devcon's golden optics get shifty and turn away from her.

Fera scoffs angrily, "And I was supposed to translate that as something else besides 'son'? Devcon, he's only a child, and you've done something absolutely wicked to him. You weren't there when I told him that I knew the '_Capri Detective'_, you didn't see the look on his face when he tried to hold back his hopes."

The midnight blue mech frowns sharply and looks to the woman from his pilot's seat, "It's not like I'm a total stranger to him, Fera, I'm still his _family_. Yeah, I used my brother's title to get the kid _out_ here, I didn't think he'd come any other way."

"Why? What's the history between you two? Just before he knocked you another one in the jaw, he said something about he and his mother having thought you were dead, too. He said that you weren't there to protect them. What was that about?" Fera's lips tighten into a venomous frown as the mech remains stubbornly quiet, "Devcon, you better start being straight with me, or you're gonna wake up one of these mornings with your tongue missing."

Devcon raises an optic ridge at the feisty woman's threat—and is wise to take it to spark. He then sighs and rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing the back of his neck, "My brother 'n I… we had some bad blood between one another, after he left the bounty hunting deal to go start his family. I… I visited him on Cybertron a few times, got to know his femme 'n kid."

Fera's gaze calms as she watches Devcon's expression grow distant and quiet.

"That kid… I adored that kid, Fera. I called him "Beater", cuz I knew he was the toughest kid in his neighborhood, even if he was one of the smallest. But that didn't make him a mean one. No, he had a spark of gold, I never seen such a deep look in any other sparkling's optics before." Devcon rubs his face and keeps his hand over it as he recounts his story, "After my brother died… After he was _killed_… Well, I got cold peds, Fera. I was a selfish jerk—frag, still am. I couldn't look after a _kid _and _femme_, I wouldn't know the first thing to being a family mech.

"So I stopped going back to Cybertron. They knew that my work was dangerous, so I figured that sooner or later they'd just assume I'd been killed in action. I just… couldn't bring myself to go see them, Fera. Every time I saw that kid's face, I saw my brother. And I remembered the bad blood between us that I was never mech enough to put behind us. My brother died knowing me as the stubborn, sparkless fragger that I've always been."

Fera watches the mech for a moment, a heavy silence falling over the cockpit. She then sighs slowly, "No wonder he hates you." Before the mech can respond, she continues, "But you're all that he's got besides his mother now. You're the head mech of his family, whether you like it or not. I don't know what you and your brother had a fit over, and I don't care. I care about Nightbeat, and you're going to do the same."

Devcon's silence prompts her to continue, "You can still do right by that boy out there. I expect that you will." With that, Fera turns and steps out of the cockpit, heading down the hallway before entering the small medical bay. She quietly moves further into the dim room and looks down at a slumbering Siren on one of the medical berths and gently pulls the sheets further up to his shoulders.

The pale blue mech stirs as he notices the presence and onlines his eerie, red optics, "Hmmm… where are we?"

Fera's voice is a soft whisper as she gently strokes the youngling's cheek, "Shhh… we're just covering our trail right now, we'll start on our direct course soon. How is your hand?"

"Uh… 's a bit sore, but it's a lot better than it was. Thank you…" He blushes and smiles lightly, optics dim and loopy from the pain medicine he was given for his new appendage.

The woman nods and pats the small mech's shoulder, "Alright, love, get some rest now."

"Where's Nightbeat?"

Fera blinks and looks around the medibay, "Hm… He must've gone about the ship for a walk, I'll find him. You just rest…" She draws a flush of the pale mech's cheeks as she presses a small kiss to his forehead before she straightens her posture and walks further into the room, looking to the red Colonist sitting against the wall, seemingly in recharge. She tilts her head, curious of why the red bot wouldn't lie down on one of the berths instead, and pulls one of the sheets off a berth.

As she kneels and puts the sheet over the mech, however, his translucent, turquoise visor lights up and locks gazes with her. Hosehead's voice is quiet as to not disturb the younger bot in the room, "Don't touch me. I know what you are."

Fera is taken aback for a moment before leaning away on her haunches, "You are not like the others, like your friends, I mean."

"No."

"You are not from Cybertron."

"No."

"Where are you from?"

"No."

Fera stares at the young Colonist for a moment before sighing, "I am sorry. About your people."

"I don't want your pity. I don't want anything from your kind."

"You have me mistaken, young one, for the lesser half of my kind. I am not one of them. My people are not your enemies."

"Your kind didn't see it fit to be biased with us. Why should I give you the benefit."

Fera watches the dark, bitter resentment that clouds the young mech's crystal blue optics, her heart aching. How little he knows of her kind, how little he realizes that they are in fact quite alike despite being separated by a species. She stands and walks to the entrance of the medibay, hand resting on the doorframe as she looks back at him, "Perhaps I can earn it from you."

Hosehead watches the alien woman as she turns away and leaves. He shoves away the sheet that she had put near him and crosses his arms, optics darkening as he stares at the wall. Is he going to be alright? Will he find a place where he can rebuild his life—a place he can call home again?

Will he ever be the same?

Fera continues her way along the curved halls of the _Monacus_, searching until she comes upon the young, midnight blue mech she's looking for. The young bot seems to be toying with some kind of red sphere in his hands, but it disappears into his subspace as her presence is sensed. She approaches him and stands beside him, joining him as they look out the large window to the floating stars and glowing rocks in the distance.

Nightbeat retains his silence for a long while, not even turning his gaze to acknowledge her. Finally, his voice quietly sounds, "Did you know?"

The woman looks to her slightly-shorter company and shakes her head lightly, "No, I really thought he was your father. You two look so much alike, I was convinced when I first met you." She gently rests her hand on his shoulder, "But, Nightbeat… he is still your uncle. He is still your _family_. Now, I know that you do not want to trust him, that you probably don't want to even see him… but please hear me out."

She waits until Nightbeat looks to her before continuing, "I don't really need to tell you how precious family is, how easily it can just slip away from your grip; and I don't mean just by death. The worst kind of separation that a family can suffer is by something deeper than death, something that seats itself in the core of your heart. I'm not trying to defend what Devcon did to you and your mother, Nightbeat, but… I guess what I'm trying to say is… perhaps you should ask yourself what your father would have done. Perhaps he forgave his brother a long time ago. Because that's what brothers do."

With that, the woman turns to walk away, but stops when her hand is gently caught.

Nightbeat focuses his optics on her hand for a moment before gathering himself enough to look to her eyes, "Do you trust him?"

Fera turns to face the young mech again and holds his shoulder, "With my life."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you <em>did <em>that! Whatever advantage of cover we had is now totally and entirely _blown!_" Prowl frantically darts his fingertips across several touch-screens, initiating the ship's internal repair systems as sparks flare and fly around in the cockpit.

"Them bots stupid to try stopping us, them bots dead now. How is cover blown if no witnesses left?" Grimlock nonchalantly continues to steer the damaged vessel away from the spacebridge entrance, the mangled corpses of Decepticon Seekers floating near it, and ventures further into the Beta-Tri Quadrant.

"Have you not ever heard of _communications_, you idiot? They've probably called for an entire fleet to come vaporize us!" Prowl's voice hisses through his clenched teeth, "We're going to need an entire new _ship_ if these repair systems don't hurry up!"

Grimlock scoffs, "Then we steal one. Or, maybe Praxian isn't fixing ship right."

Said Praxian shoots a death glare at his towering companion before releasing an angry growl, "I'd rather avoid clashing with _intergalactic _law enforcement, Grimlock, we'll have to—"

"Praxian wants to wuss out again? 'Thought you finally grew some diodes when you started makin' shady deals with _Gladiators_. Your servos already dirty, so stop trying to keep 'em clean."

Prowl pauses and looks to the Dinobot, his mouth silently open for a moment before he frowns, "You could at least try not to sound so pleased about it."

The larger mech shrugs, "Why? 'Always wanted an Enforcer in my pocket."


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: Hope everyone's had a good week, this one seemed like it was longer than most, but I guess most of us are busy. X) Also realized that although I mentioned my Ask Nightbeat account on Tumblr I actually failed to give ya'll the _link _to it XD; ( AskNightbeat . Tumblr . com ) Siren's been making quite a cameo on it recently, I'm having fun with it.

Thank you SezWho and Blackpanther for your comments on last week's chapter, I always love to hear from you! ^_^

To my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Starscream, I find it very difficult to believe that the Capri child escaped Lockdown's hold all by himself, as Megatron assumes due to the bounty hunter's sudden disappearance from radar…"<p>

Starscream scoffs at his blue comrade as he guides his Seeker Trine through a pocket of asteroids in the Beta-Tri Quadrant, "I find it difficult to believe that Megatron even _bothers_ with that filthy bounty hunter's double-talk; or why he would even consider looking to such a weakling for a task that _clearly_ requires the best-of-the-best. That would be _us_, of course, or at least _me._"

Skywarp internally rolls his optics, "Yeah, right, Starscream! You got yer aft handed to ya by those two kids back on Nexus! We're lucky Megatron didn't scrap us _all_ for that!"

"Quiet, fool!" Starscream snaps at the purple Seeker, "Perhaps if my _partners_ hadn't been so easily evaded by their trickery, none of this would have happened and we would still be under Megatron's graces!"

"Both of you, quiet. I am picking up a Decepticon distress signal." Thundercracker flies ahead of the other two Seekers and slowly passes around a large asteroid, "Starscream… you'll want to see this."

The Trine leader perks up before catching up with his comrade, a deep feeling of glee filling him as he sees the source of the distress signal, "My my, and here I was starting to think we were going to have to scour the entire quadrant to find those brats…"

Lockdown's shattered optics turn to look to the arriving Seekers, his teeth gritting as a silent curse leaves him. His battered form drifts helplessly in the asteroid cluster, having been ejected from his own ship by that crazed Dinobot that had gotten loose aboard it. The mech growls as he speaks, "Should've figured you three would be the only ones Megatron would send out here."

"You may be under a false impression, Lockdown—we were not sent here to _save _you in any way, shape, or form." Starscream's serpentine smile is evident in his voice as he transforms into bi-pedal mode to approach the defeated bounty hunter, "We were sent to finish the task that you were clearly incapable of."

Lockdown hisses angrily at the red and white Seeker, "The kid ain't working alone, Starscream, he's got some sizeable back-up."

"Trying to redeem your dignity? Why bother? It's not like I plan to pass it on anything else you say to Megatron, nor will anybot else ever get to hear it from you themselves so long as you continue drifting aimlessly in this cold, _lonely_ void."

"What do you want from me, Starscream." Lockdown frowns deeply as he glares at the Air Commander.

Starscream's snake-charmer smile continues, his voice layered with a faux kindness, "Well, for starters, dear bounty hunter, I want a _lead_. What do you know about the whereabouts of the Capri child?"

"And how'd he get _away_, anyways?" Skywarp raises an optic ridge as he floats beside his Commander.

Lockdown grumbles, "I know plenty, fly-boy, but until you give me something, you won't get a drop of information from me."

"Oh? And what might you be after, bounty hunter? Perhaps I could interest you in an energon cookie? You do look rather famished…" Starscream mockingly gives the mangled bounty hunter a look of sympathy with pouted lips.

"I want a ship, you slimy glitch."

An exaggerated look of mock surprise replaces the sympathy on the red Seeker's face, "A _ship?_ But, Lockdown, don't you already _have_ one of those? Your mother and I aren't made of money, you know, you should start being more _responsible…_"

The bounty hunter ignores the grins and chuckles from Starscream's companions and narrows his blasted-out optics, "Keep pushin' your luck, Seeker, I'm not the kind of bot that can be pushed outta the way for long. I'll be back in the game sooner than you think, and when I am—I'll be repaying you for this little visit."

"That doesn't sound like a very nice tone to be _bargaining for your life_ with, my dear Lockdown." Starscream's glee glows in his smile and optics as he floats a little closer to the dark mech, "Tell you what—why don't you tell me where I can find that little Capri worm, and I'll give you a hardy _push_ in the general direction of a planet. It's certainly a better chance you'll have in comparison to floating at one inch per klik on a trajectory towards nothing of particular significance…"

"You either give me a ride onto a planet of my choice or you'll leave me with as much information as you came with." The hunter's voice is low and warning.

Starscream tilts his helm in consideration before shrugging and huffs, "Very well, Lockdown. It seems I've no better options than to give you what you want. Skywarp, give our _friend_ here a helping servo." He watches as his subordinate dutifully obeys, the purple mech flying around and taking a hold of the bounty hunter's shoulders before all three Seekers begin flying through the asteroid cluster once more, "I can't take you to just any planet, however, as my comrades and I are on a time-sensitive mission."

"With that said, it is imperative that you tell us what you know now, we cannot afford to waste precious nano-kliks taking you to another planet. Skywarp will take you where you need to go, while Starscream and I will continue our search."

Starscream raises an optic ridge at Thundercracker's addition to the conversation, "Yes, thank you, Thundercracker." He looks to Lockdown, "So, then, how about it? It would put you in good light with Megatron if he knew you continued to partake in the search for his quarry, perhaps he would even _overlook _your short-comings… And you _will _have to lend some trust to us in this bargain if you plan to receive the same from us."

Lockdown stares at the Seeker leader for a moment, knowing he shouldn't breathe a word of his knowledge.

Starscream frowns at the mech's silence, "It isn't as though I have no way of finding what I want on my own, Lockdown, so either you talk or we'll leave you worse off than how we found you."

The bounty releases a gruff vent, out of options, "The kid was taken from me."

"How tragic. Now tell me _who_ took him."

"Another bounty hunter. Devcon."

Starscream frowns lightly in confusions, "Devcon? Am I supposed to know who that is?"

Lockdown chuckles darkly, "You will."

* * *

><p>Siren's peds sway back and forth under the table as he contently enjoys the first cube of energon he's had since leaving the Nexus Space Station. Already, the color is returning to his pale cheeks as his chassis is revitalized by the nourishment, a small smile displaying his simple enjoyment of having a full tank again. Lost in his bliss, it takes the light blue mech a moment to realize he's being watched by the other mech seated across the table from him—Hosehead.<p>

Siren smiles shyly at the other's seemingly unbreakable gaze, a bit unsettled by it, "What? Why're you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?"

Hosehead retains his silence for a moment before resting his chin on his hand, "You just remind me of somebot. A lot of bots, actually."

Siren curiously tilts his helm, "Oh? Who?"

The red Colonist glances off, "Well, I guess you kinda remind me of how I was. Before the slavers came to my colony."

Siren pauses for a moment, swallowing lightly as he realizes he's now in a very delicate conversation, surprised that the quiet, rough-natured mech before him would let him in on such a topic. He nibbles his lips a little as he chooses his words carefully, "How, um… how so?"

Hosehead shrugs lightly, his movements slow, optics quiet and half-shuttered, expression unreadable, "I used to be so happy over nothing. I used to be so peaceful, even in times of chaos, like how you are now. You sit there, giddy over a cube of energon, smiling like everything's okay. You've lost your hand, you've been attacked and you're being pursued by who knows what kinds of enemies. Yet you still sit there, like a child."

Siren again swallows and looks down at his cube of energon, not sure if he's being insulted, complimented, or just prudently observed. He then looks to the red Colonist again, "Well, I got a new hand, I'm feeling a lot better—and Nightbeat will know how to get us home safely."

The red mech smirks faintly and scoffs quietly, "See, that's just what I'm talking about. Always optimistic. Where I come from, there was nothing but optimism. We were a peaceful people, always helping any foreigners, off-worlders, always accepting them into our fold like they were family." Hosehead's smirk disappears into something darker, "Until one day, we accepted the wrong people."

Siren watches the other mech as he tells his story, fidgeting with his energon cube.

"Some of us knew these particular outsiders couldn't be trusted, some of us wanted to eradicate them. Some of us wanted to go against everything that our people stood for, to raise a hand of violence against an invading force that already had us in their grasp before we realized it." Hosehead's optics dim, "I've lost what I was, Siren. I used to be so much like you, so much like my people and what we idealized. If they saw me now… they would be ashamed of what I've become." He quietly looks down at his hands, "I've destroyed the most precious thing in this universe, several times… I've killed in the pursuit of preserving my own existence."

Speechless, Siren stares at the mech sitting across from him, lost for words, unsure of what he can say to the Colonist to lift his spirits.

What would Nightbeat say? He knows how to dig into the core of a bot's spark and tell them exactly what they need to hear… but does Siren possess that same ability?

"I'm sorry." Hosehead looks away, "I shouldn't have told you all that, it's not your burden."

Siren's optics dim as he watches the other bot, "No… it's okay." He waits until the other looks to him again, "We're all in this together now. If we're gonna make it, we hafta share the weight—we gotta look out for each other." He takes a moment to think, chewing nervously on his lip, "And Hosehead… I don't think your people would be ashamed of you. You fight to preserve yourself—because maybe you're the only one who can keep their ideals and memory alive. And… sometimes, maybe to uphold what's right, you have to put down what's wrong… Bad things only happen when the good stand by and do nothing."

Hosehead blinks, surprised by the depth of the younger bot's response; he hadn't expected it. He then sighs and smirks lightly, "Nightbeat's lucky to have a kid like you around, Siren."

Siren smiles, feeling the start of a brotherly connection with the other, "Well, now you get to have me around, too."

* * *

><p>"You should go have some energon with your friends, Nightbeat. They keep asking about you…" Fera walks quietly into the private recharge quarters aboard the <em>Monacus <em>that I've been given access to use, her emerald eyes seeming to glow in the darkness, sending shivers up my spinal strut.

I don't look at her for a moment, lifting the energon cube I already have to gesture that I've got one. My curiosity finally pulls my optics to her when I don't pick up any sounds from her direction, a bit startled when I discover she's standing right beside the window niche I'm seated in. I look up at her, subtly observing the way the starlight from the window glows against her exotic form before speaking up, "Here to have another heart to spark chat?"

Fera smirks at my play with words and pats my peds, gesturing for me to move them so she can sit down on the window niche beside me. She sits primly, brushing off her short skirt before fixing her hair. Primus, even organic femmes are picky about their appearance. She must notice that I'm watching her with an amused look as she huffs and smiles at me.

The woman then shakes her head, "No, I'm not here for that kind of talk now. I'm here to update you on the reality of our situation." Her soft tone tricks me into thinking she's telling me a bedtime story at first, "This is dangerous territory we're in, Nightbeat. Devcon knows that the Decepticons are after the same thing you are, and he knows that it's dangerous."

"Does that mean he knows what it _is_ that we're all looking for?"

"No." Devcon's voice suddenly bites into the quiet mood of the room, and I look over to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame of it with his arms crossed. The midnight blue mech puffs when I look away from him, "Listen, kid, you can't stay mad at me forever—"

"You wanna bet?" I don't know why I'm being so snappy with the mech. Sure, he deceived me into thinking he was my father, drew me out into this Primus-forsaken quadrant to get chopped up and shot at, and I won't even start on how he abandoned my mother and I on Cybertron after Dad died. Maybe that's why I'm being so snappy. Maybe I feel like I'm supposed to be that way to him, like I'd be stomping on my own pride if I just accepted him like he did nothing wrong.

What do you say to a mech that faked his death a decade ago?

Devcon rubs his face and walks further into the room, sitting on the recharge berth, "Nightbeat, listen… I know I've got no business trying for your forgiveness, and I know it's something I'll never deserve from you. But… please, kid. This situation—it's bigger than both of us, there are a lotta lives on the line here." He tilts his helm, his golden optics piercing through mine, "And if you're anything like your father—and trust me, I knew him well enough to be the judge of this—that's the _real_ reason you came out all this way."

Turning my helm away, I stare out the window, knowing that he's right. A warm, soft hand rests on my arm, Fera's way of lending me some comfort.

Devcon continues, "You came out here because you knew that your father was part of something big, and you knew that he was sending you a final message—that he needed you to finish his work. Sure, maybe the Capri Detective name was being thrown around, but I had to do that, because I knew you'd need just that much more of a push before you would risk the lives of whatever friends you brought along on your journey… But you also know that whatever it was your father was up to, whatever it is that his final message will lead you to—you know it's something that could change the way of life on Cybertron as everybot knows it, likely… for the worst."

Frag, he's a smooth-talker, just like me, my dad, and every other mech in my family tree.

I take in a long vent of air before shifting, reaching into my subspace compartment before brandishing the red, spherical map that had been hidden on the final gift my father gave me. I can't help but notice the way Fera's eyes light up, as if I've just taken out a large ruby stone. Holding it up for both of them to see, I look between them, "It's a map. The final message my father left me. It's made of an ore that only comes from one planet—the only planet that these things are manufactured on, and likely the only planet where I can find the kind of tool that I need to read what it holds inside."

"I know where it is."

Both Devcon and I look to Fera with intent optics.

"It's from a planet that I lived on for a while, after I had escaped the persecution of my people and went into hiding… It's a planet called Pz-Zazz."

* * *

><p>"Those aliens on Nexus weren't of much help, it's clear that they've been terrorized into holding their tongues by the Decepticons." Prowl frowns as he begrudgingly sits in the co-pilot seat of the ship.<p>

"Got enough to get started on the kid's trail. Better than nothing." Grimlock's fiery visor gazes out the front windshield as he guides the ship through the void.

"Perhaps. However, now it's even more likely that the Decepticons will be well aware of our presence here, assuming those aliens back there are going to tell them about us."

"Hrf, 'talk too much about '_maybe' _and _'perhaps'._ Bottom line—" The Dinobot suddenly pauses as a faint _clank_ sounds in the back storage room of the ship. A low growl rumbles in the towering mech's chest as he slowly stands from the pilot's seat, his features shadowed as he stalks towards the back.

"Grimlock? What are you doing? What is it?" Prowl blinks and stands form his seat, narrowing his icy optics as he senses the Dinobot's heightened alertness and quiets down.

Another quiet scuff is heard from behind the storage compartment door, and with a swift swing of his massive servo, Grimlock throws it back, his visor flaring when a high-pitched squeak bursts from beyond it.

Prowl's optics widen and flare in absolute shock when he sees a femme stowed away in the storage compartment of the ship, jaw slack, "What on Cybertron—Grimlock, wait!" Darting around the Dinobot, Prowl stands protectively between him and the startled femme and looks to her, "_Minerva? _What are you _doing_ here!"

Minerva holds her hand over her chest as she tries to calm herself down, having thought for a moment she was about to be a Dinobot's breakfast. She then swallows and looks to Prowl, "Jazz told me about you and Grimlock taking this ship out—to find my son… Surely I don't need to explain the rest." With a huff, the femme walks past both the shocked Praxian and the curious Dinobot towards the front end of the ship.

Prowl stands in bewilderment for a moment before shaking his helm and follows after the femme, "Minerva, surely you know better than this! This is unchartered territory, for all of us!"

"Not for me." Grimlock eloquently adds.

"Be quiet, Grimlock, you're not helping! Minerva, listen to me, you can't possibly be serious—"

Minerva turns sharply on her heel to face the Praxian and looks him dead in the optics with a stern expression, "I can't possibly be serious? Not even when I'm standing right in front of you on this ship? Not when it's _my _son who's out here somewhere? You know I can hold my own, Prowl, I don't plan to be a burden—I would have thought that I wouldn't need to prove myself to you again."

The Praxian is left without a response, rubbing his forehead. He jolts, however, when Grimlock's hand suddenly falls heavily onto his shoulder.

"I don't mind. She can stay."

Prowl scoffs at the larger mech's words, "That's very _gracious_ of you, Grimlock."

"Prowl…" Minerva's voice is quiet, "Who is that?"

The attention of both mechs is drawn to the front windshield as Minerva points to a chassis that's floating just a few paces ahead of the ship. As the ship slowly nears the seemingly lifeless frame, a hook suddenly reaches out and catches onto the windshield, a set of red optics lighting up.

A hissing rumble leaves Grimlock's vocalizer as he recognizes the dark bounty hunter, "Just found our lead, Praxian."


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: ** Sorry for the late posting, all! It seems there's been yet another technical difficulty with the website, I posted this chapter up Friday afternoon but just saw that it can't be opened! **

Another week down, I hope everyone who's starting school up is having a smooth transition ^_^ Just so ya know, I didn't make up the crazy planet name of "Pz-Zazz", it's actually the setting of the first US Marvel issue that Nightbeat ever appeared in, #62 "Bird of Prey!" So I thought it'd be fun to once more give it a little nod. X)

Thankya SezWho for your ever-enthusiastic comments, they make my day! XD

To all my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>They say that cities have souls.<p>

They say that if you listen closely enough, you can hear a city's sparkbeat echo through the streets, and at night you can hear it sigh through the alleyways.

The memories of a city are in the rusted cracks, the decaying foundations, and the bold silhouettes of its skyline. To some it might look dirty, but to those who know what it means, it's beautiful.

Sometimes, though… there's too much rust. Too much dirt and grime that cakes over the golden memories, corruption that seeps into the very soul of a city and makes it forget itself, what it once was.

My father taught me how to look for the signs of this corruption, whether it was in its early stages of creation, or if it had already manifested itself in every laid brick of a city. He told me that in a city that's lost its way, screams replace the sighs at night, and the sparkbeat is diseased by a smog that makes your peds heavy and your optics burn. Nothing of good nature can survive in these kinds of cities; these are the places where darkness reigns.

From what I'm hearing, the planet of Pz-Zazz is an entire planet of such places.

"My brother and I had a small Private Investigation office down there—you remember it, Fera, it's where you 'n I first met."

Fera looks to Devcon as he steers the ship closer to the upcoming planet in discussion, "Do you think the office is still there? Or even the building? It's been years since we've been to it… it could've burned down by now, or been ransacked."

Devcon shrugs, "Possible. But… unlikely." He smirks over his shoulder at the woman, "Y'see, my brother was a careful mech—or maybe 'paranoid' would be the right word for 'im. He knew how to pick a place that no one but the right kinds of folks could find."

I frown lightly and look over to the older mech, "And what kinds of 'folks' would those be?"

Devcon chuckles, seeming to find amusement in my testy tone before he glances back at me, "The desperate kinds, kid."

I release a vent of air and lean back in my seat, glancing over to Siren and Hosehead, the two being awfully quiet. I study the two of them for a moment, my optics eventually finding their way down to Siren's newly replaced hand. Reaching out, I carefully lift it by his wrist, looking it over. Siren wiggles his fingers in a childish manner, and we both smile.

"Does it hurt?" My visor turns to look to him.

He shakes his pale helm, "Miss Fera did a good job on it, it feels just like the old one."

I continue to observe my partner's new appendage before glancing towards the front end of the ship's cockpit, feeling a set of emerald eyes watching me. I hold gazes with the enigmatic Fera Fatima for a moment, nodding my appreciation to her in silence, receiving a nod in return. She smiles, and I feel my spark flutter.

"Nightbeat… can I have a klik?"

I pull my attention from Fera and look over to the source of the voice—Hosehead. Nodding slowly, I stand from my seat, "Sure, let's take a walk."

Devcon glances back at us, "Don't be too long, boys, we're almost there."

Siren's large optics watch us curiously as I step out of the cockpit room with Hosehead and out into a long hallway. We walk along silently for a few paces before I look to the red Colonist, "What's up, Hosehead?"

The red-clad mech doesn't look at me, instead keeping his optics focused on the walls and floor, "Siren told me about what it is you two are doing out here."

Of course he did.

Before I can respond, Hosehead looks to me with his sharp optics and continues, "I want in."

Taken aback, I stop walking and look to him curiously, "You want in? But why? You're not from Cybertron, it isn't your problem."

"In a broad sense, I am from Cybertron. I may not have been created there, but my ancestors were." He cuts me off just as I'm once more about to speak, "But that's not why I want in. I couldn't care less for the planet that cut colonies like mine off through the cancelation of the space bridge programs. I want in because: one, you need as much help as you can get, and two, you're up against players that I have a bone to pick with."

I frown lightly as I try to put the pieces together, "Who, the Decepticons?"

"No, not them. The ones they're in business with."

He couldn't mean…

"The Shi-Lai? But why?"

"Those Slavers that were back on that moon that I'd been stuck on… They work for them. The Shi-Lai have been raiding all the Colonies, sending bounty hunters and slavers, taking our kind and forcing us into slavery—like—like we're all just machines!" The red mech shakes his helm, slowing himself down as an evident rage begins welling up in his voice. After a moment, he's calm again, his voice steady as he looks to me, "I want in because… I need help, too, Nightbeat. The Shi-Lai have my people, and… if Cybertron is destroyed by the Decepticons, or—or the Shi-Lai or whoever else—then there will be nothing left. No one left to help us."

Then he really does care about Cybertron's future, though perhaps more so for the fate of his own people rather than ours.

This, however, is a lot to take on. If I agree to let Hosehead in on finding whatever it is that the Decepticons have been after… then surely he will expect me to help him in his own endeavor. But how? What could I possibly do against an alien empire, to free who knows how many civilizations-worth of Colonists? Cybertron is too enveloped in its own self-containment and preservation, I doubt it would jump up to assist anyone outside its solar system.

"I'm not expecting any miracles from you, Nightbeat. I just need to know that… if an opportunity arises, you'll have my back, just as I promise to have yours." Hosehead's tone is quiet, the exhaustion of all he's gone through sounding through ever so slightly.

Promise. That's a big word in my family. It's a word we tend to avoid, just because it's so precious, so easily shattered. It's almost taboo.

"I can't make you any promises, Hosehead… but I'll help you in any way I can." I extend my hand, and the red mech accepts it, giving it a firm shake.

"That's all I ask for."

Our optics lock as we seek trust in one another, and I furrow my optic ridges lightly as Hosehead squints, his expression darkening as if he's about to tell me something grave.

He steps a little closer to me, his voice lowering, "There's something I need to tell you about Fera—"

"Boys, we've arrived at our destination, come buckle in for landing." Fera looks between the two of us from where she stands at the entrance of the cockpit room, her cool demeanor making it impossible to tell whether or not she heard what Hosehead said.

Looking to Hosehead silently, I give him a hardy pat on the arm, assuring him that we'll have time to talk later. Turning, I start towards the cockpit room, looking to Fera, "You mean we're actually going to _land_ on this planet? After everything you 'n Devcon have told me about what a Pit-hole it is?"

Fera smirks, "Leaving the ship in orbit would draw too much attention to ourselves, bandits patrol the skies. Flying in and landing quickly is the best option if we plan to keep a low key down there."

"A low key…" I can't help but give a blatant look up and down Fera's form, her scanty clothes making for quite an optic-full. A slim finger then turns my chin up, and I give a bright grin to the set of emerald eyes that are looking to me in warning.

Fera accepts the humorous gesture and smirks herself, patting my cheek gently, "I have my ways of going unseen, when I want."

"Seems like you've got a lot more ways to go _seen_. I guess in your case 'less is more', yeah?"

My snarky attitude skips a beat as Fera's thumb passes over my bottom lip, drawing a tiny gasp from me—also drawing a piece of my dignity with it. Her way of shutting up a joker? Either way, it's effective as I'm left stuttering, and she's left smirking at me as she speaks, "I'll always take more over less, Nightbeat."

Her finger runs down from my chin to my chest, drawing my optics to look down—just as she's raising the finger and proceeds to lightly flick my nose with it. I can feel my faceplates warm up as I smile and chuckle in defeat, passing her by before returning to my seat beside Siren in the cockpit.

Fera remains at the doorway, crossing her arm across it to block Hosehead's path just as the red Colonist approaches. He turns his turquoise visor to the woman, the two holding silent gazes before she gently caresses his chin, then turns away, taking her seat by Devcon.

What is going on there?

I glance to Hosehead as he sits beside me, but the other mech keeps his optics turned forward as Devcon speaks up, "Alright, kiddies, hold onto ye rafts, this one's gonna be bumpy!" The glee is all too evident in his voice.

This is it. We're getting there, closer to the final truth that my father so desperately hid from the wrong optics. Am I making the right decision, trusting Devcon? Trusting Fera? Hosehead? I don't think Siren and I would have made it this far on our own, not with how things turned out so early on in the chase…

Maybe I'm too pessimistic to question the intentions of every living being I come by. Or, maybe I'm being naïve by scorning myself for thinking that way. Only time will tell, I suppose.

* * *

><p>"You will tell us what you know now, or you'll be needing a lot more than a hook to replace your lost appendages!"<p>

Minerva looks over to Prowl in surprise, never having heard such anger in the young Praxian's voice before as the mech questions their unexpected guest. Turning her attention elsewhere, she squints in apprehension as she sees Grimlock, the Dinobot's teeth gnashing with anticipation.

Lockdown cackles at the younger mech's attempts to make him talk, looking all too comfortable in the chair he's been chained to, "Most of the appendages I've got on aren't even really _mine_, boy, and I've got some _spares_ should the need arise."

Prowl's face contorts in a look of disgust before quickly turning into one of fury as he grabs the larger mech's shoulders, "That may be, but I'll bet it's still your own sensory network that's hooked up to them!" To demonstrate his point, the Praxian delivers a sharp jab with his fingers into a connecting joint between the bounty hunter's torso and shoulder.

The strike draws a surprised cringe from Lockdown, but it doesn't last long before he smiles sharply, hissing in discomfort, "I haven't had anybot pull that move on me for ages—only a bot trained in Circuit-Su would be savvy of that spot. Where'd you learn that, kid?"

Prowl's ice blue optics sharpen into daggers as he draws his hand back for another strike, but he blinks as his wrist is grabbed from behind. Turning, the Praxian is startled to be met by the stern gaze of a mother, "What are you doing?"

"Why don't you let me handle this one, Prowl. I think you need to go cool down." Minerva's voice is firm and sure.

Both Prowl and Grimlock are left dumbfounded for a moment, the Enforcer speaking up first, "I'm not sure what it is that you're suggesting—"

"I'm suggesting, Prowl, that you and Grimlock take a walk. Into another room."

"If you honestly believe I would leave you with—"

"I'm not asking, Prowl."

Again, Prowl is left staring at the femme with a dumb look of shock on his face, Lockdown watching with intent curiosity. Minerva, however, stands her ground, her optics unwavering from the stare she's holding with the Praxian. Finally, Prowl gives and turns, shaking his helm in disbelief.

Grimlock turns to follow Prowl into the next room, but pauses to look over at Minerva, grumbling quietly in distaste for the situation.

Minerva's gaze softens a bit as she looks up at the large Dinobot, "I'll be alright, you boys will only be in the next room over."

Accepting the femme's words, Grimlock turns and begrudgingly walks out with Prowl, a bit disappointed that he won't be snacking on any bounty hunter's limbs for the time being.

Once the door closes behind the two withdrawn mechs, Minerva finally turns her gaze to Lockdown, and slowly approaches. Lockdown watches the femme closely, shattered optics narrowed with suspicion. Without a word, however, she takes out her medical kit and kneels, carefully treating at a deep gash along the mech's face with a downsized repair ray.

Lockdown flinches away at first before scoffing, "Oh, I see what your angle is. 'Good cop, bad cop' routine, is it? Really, now." He frowns as he receives no sign of a reaction from the femme and again huffs, "You're a real ragtag kind of crew—an Enforcer who probably isn't even old enough to drink, a _Dinobot_, and a cutesy nurse. Who the frag are you people?" Again, he receives no response.

As the mech shifts in his seat, however, Minerva's voice calmly rings out, "Hold still, please. Unless you would rather lose your optics to infection."

Lockdown once more scoffs, he preferred playing head games with the Praxian over this dull silent treatment; he might as well be flinging mud at a brick wall. He holds still for a moment, curious to find that the femme is actually healing his wounds, then speaks up again, "I find it hard to believe any of you were sent by the High Council, maybe if it was just you 'n the cop then I'd buy it… but a Dinobot?" He turns his damaged optics to her, "Just who are you? What's this Nightbeat kid mean to you?"

Minerva pauses in her work and meets the dark bounty hunter's gaze, her voice steady, "He's my son."

A heavy silence falls over the room for a split nano-klik, Lockdown's optic ridges rising in surprise. His voice is much more quiet as he speaks, "You're Minerva… You're the Capri's wife…"

_The Capri_, something that only friends and close co-workers of Minerva's sparkmate called him.

Minerva nods slowly, her optics unwavering, "Yes. How do you know that?"

Lockdown frowns deeply in consideration, staring the femme in the optics for a moment, "I was his partner. It was me, him, and Devcon, back in the day… We were the Capri Trio."


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Well, it looks like this story could end up being as long as the first, maybe even longer! I've got some more loops 'n twists planned for ya'll, but don't worry, you'll find answers in the end. X) And oh my, a long chapter XD

Sez: I'm glad you're still enjoying Fera's part in this, I've really enjoyed writing for her and keeping her under a veil of mystery~ XD

Blackpanther: I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and what's a mystery story without a million questions :D

Tiamat1972: Indeed I do dodge around saying the name of Nightbeat's father, you caught me XD Just as in the first story, I've left Nightbeat's father nameless and faceless, as I like the thought of him being such. I guess you could say he's an OC at this point, it just feels better to leave his identity unknown X)

Thank you for your reviews!

To my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy! ^_^

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><p>"Siren, you okay?" I can barely see straight for a moment as I approach the other bot.<p>

My pale blue partner looks even paler than usual as he stumbles a bit, my hand reaching out to steady him by his shoulder. His bright red optics flicker a bit as he holds his hand over his mouth before speaking, "Yeah, I'm okay, just… I've never done an 'orbital jump' before, I fell like my tanks did most of the jumping…"

Devcon snickers and gives Siren a hardy pat on the back, "Don't worry, kid, it'll wear off soon enough."

Turning my helm, I take a glance around at the crew before looking up at the smogged-out skies, grimacing as the smell of the capital city of Pz-Zazz fills my olfactory sensors. Somehow, it's almost startling to be in a place that's worse off than my own home sector back on Cybertron. A small sound of distress off to my left catches my attention, however, and I look over to see Fera leaning against Devcon's side.

"Hey, is she okay? Should organics even _ride_ an orbital jump?" I frown lightly, finding yet another reason to be mad at the older mech. My uncle.

Devcon pouts at my accusing tone before smirking, hooking an arm around Fera, "Nah, kid, don't worry about it—she's made a' tougher stuff. Ain't ya, Fera?" His smile is profusely oozing with charm as he looks to her.

I wonder if that's what I look like when I'm smiling at a pretty girl. Sure as frag hope not.

Fera chuckles and pats Devcon's chest armor, "Oh, you don't know the first of it."

I feel my faceplates heat up as the enigmatic woman presses herself even closer to my smarmy uncle, and it takes me a moment to realize I have an audience of my own. Pausing, I look over to find Hosehead and Siren staring at me with all-too-knowing looks—though Hosehead's looks more on the angry side whereas Siren looks like he's about to explode into giggly bubbles. Frowning deeply, I feel my face light up even more before I clear my throat and cross my arms, looking back to Fera and Devcon.

"So are we just gonna stand around holding hands all day or should we just leave you two behind?"

I internally curse myself as a tone of jealousy is way too obvious in my voice.

Devcon and Fera both give me snarky smirks, the mech speaking up first, "Sheesh, kid, don't get your circuits up in a knot, I'll let ya hold Fera's hand if it'd put ya in a better mood."

A sharp, vexed grin pulls at my lips as a hissing chuckle leaves me, "I think I'd rather see her holding a gun in a place like this, Devcon. Now can we start moving? I thought you were the one that said this wasn't the kind of place to be caught as a Cybertronian."

Devcon chuckles coolly, patting Fera's hip affectionately before he walks past us, starting down the alleyway we were transported down to. Giving a huff, I follow my uncle, glancing back like a mother to make sure Hosehead and Siren are following. Siren seems oddly excited, smiling as he catches up with me and shoves playfully at my arm. Maybe he feels safe enough to enjoy his experience on an alien planet now that Devcon and Fera are with us.

If anything, I feel even more on edge with those two accompanying us.

The streets of Pz-Zazz are cracked, portions of it missing and giving way to the organic earth underneath, black and dark brown stains making it hard to tell what the originally intended color of the pavement was. Neon signs litter the sky, the lights all hazed over by a toxic brew of tainted fog. Heavy-set aliens with hard backs and gritty faces lurk in the shadows; slimier, shifty-eyed ones with packed trench coats walk briskly along the streets as if they've got a set of sharp teeth snapping at their heels.

It's hard to tell if it's day or night, though the thick skies look like they're alit with flames from the distant sun of the planet. It makes for an apocalyptic vision, like some kind of angry god of fire is coming down on the corruption to wipe it out.

My dramatic thoughts are jolted out of my processor as an unbearable stench begins rising, and it keeps rising the further along we walk. Wafting my hand in front of my face in a fruitless attempt to push it away, I walk up alongside Devcon, "Where are we going, _the sewers?_"

I feel my face go numb as Devcon smirks at me. Snickering, the older mech nods, "Like I said, kid, your dad 'n I picked a place where only the most desperate of folks could find us."

"You've gotta be kidding me… You two put an office in the _sewers?"_

A laugh that sounds too much like my father's leaves the dark blue mech, "Not quite, but you'll still wanna shut off your olfactory receptors."

Like clockwork, all four of us mechs give an internal command to shut off our olfactory sensory units, and just as soon we all look to Fera. The woman raises an eyebrow, clearly not enjoying herself in the stinky-aired Pit hole of Pz-Zazz. Siren's the first to break, and releases a withheld giggle before ducking behind me as Fera attempts to enact revenge with a light smack at his helm. Chuckles are drawn from me and my uncle, our tones sounding eerily alike. Hosehead, however, remains silent.

As we enter a quieter part of the city, the neon signs begin to grow less in number, the rusted metal of buildings fading into aged, deep blue bricks. The sound of rushing water grows to be the loudest, and for a moment this almost seems like a peaceful place. However, I know better than to judge a datapad by its cover.

Tall, tower-like buildings jut up along a bridge that crosses a powerful water channel; the contents of which I can only assume have sewage qualities. The buildings are odd in their shape, seeming to spiral upwards as they reach for the skies, looking like stacks of twisting squares. Perhaps they were built during a time of artistic architecture, or perhaps the architects that built them were cross-eyed.

I jump a little as I accidentally walk into the back of Devcon when the mech abruptly stops, my attention having been on the odd buildings. After blinking a few times to stabilize myself, my chassis tenses as a warm hand rubs the top of my helm. Looking up, my visor reflects the set of gold optics that are looking down at me, my intakes hesitating for a moment. He smirks, and I can see my father's face in his.

"**WOW!"** Siren exclaims his fascination as he looks up at the buildings.

I'm pretty sure I just swallowed my own vocalizer, having been caught off-guard in the quiet moment. If it even was a moment. Time to move on.

Growling lightly at my friend's loud mouth, I grab a hold of the back of his neck and give him a light shake around, unable to help a smirk as the action draws a childish laugh from him. Releasing Siren, I look to Fera rather than Devcon, trying to avoid acknowledging the moment we had, "This the place?"

Fera nods as she walks up alongside us, her hand absently stroking Siren's cheek—what is it about females and touching Siren's face?—her eyes looking up to one of the aged buildings, "Yes, this is where I remember first meeting your uncle, Nightbeat. I'd heard about him through some… helpful locals."

Helpful locals? Sounds more likely that they were information depots that were all too happy to take her money. Doesn't matter, I'll let her make it sound like there are still good souls in the universe who intend only to help others. Siren seems to be buying it.

Stepping up the stairway leading from the street to the front door of the building, Devcon pushes off a panel cover before entering a set of codes into a rather modern-looking number pad. A light hiss of hydraulics sounds as the door slides open, dust showering down in a slow, ghost-like dance. Turning his helm, he looks to me, "Why don't you take the honors, kid… We'll give you a few kliks in there by yourself."

I pause, not having expected that kind of a gesture from him. Nodding slowly, I glance at Siren and Hosehead, neither of them seeming worried to be left alone with Devcon and Fera. Taking in a deep breath, I turn and go up the stairway, looking to Devcon before I slowly enter the dark building, the layout seeming close to that of an apartment. Feeling around on the walls, I find a light switch and flick it on.

A thick layer of light grey dust coats the floors, desks, bookshelves—everything. It's been a while since anybot's been in here. The first room looks to be something of a reception area, nothing very interesting to see. Wandering around quietly, I find a doorway that opens up to another stairway, and carefully I ascend it. Every creak from the old floor boards makes my spark jump, though I can't really place why I feel so… anxious.

My father walked this same staircase. I run my hand along the wall, knowing his hand touched the same place. My optics focus on the open doorway at the top of the stairs, a vision that my father probably saw a countless number of times.

Finally, I reach the top, entering a room filled with curiosities and organized clutter. Windows line the walls in seemingly random yet tasteful places, several desks pushed around the room with stacks upon stacks of books with loose pages that look as though they've been defying gravity for eons. Strange objects of intricate shapes hang from the walls, a light breeze from a broken window giving them an appearance of life. Walking further into the room, my spark skips a beat when I look to a desk that's mildly cleared off on the surface, a single cube of crystal sitting atop it.

Approaching it, I don't dare to touch the cube, but rather I bend over to take a better look at it. Within the crystal cube, there's a delicate, beautiful laser carving of a familiar face. My mother, though she looks much younger in the depiction. This was his desk. That over there—that was his chair. That was the window he looked out of, perhaps every morning when the angry clouds of fire were just lighting up.

Unable to fight the temptation, I re-online my olfactory receptors, and take in a deep breath. There it is. That faint, smoky scent, with just a hint of rich, aged oil. I don't know how, but somehow the distantly familiar scent of my father still lingers here. Maybe I'm just imagining it, but I won't spoil it for myself by thinking too deeply over it.

I walk around the desk and look to the dusty chair set behind it, my chest tightening as I spot scuffs along the floor beneath the desk that have traces of midnight blue paint. My father had this habit of scraping his peds back and forth on the ground when he was deep in thought, a trait that I've been informed of having by my mother. Kneeling, I reach my hand out, lightly trailing my fingertips over the deep blue marks. He was here.

Straightening my posture, I again look to the chair, and finally bring myself to sit in it, slowly sinking into it. Dad always had good taste, whether it was in his highgrade or his furniture. Letting out an easy vent of air, I offline my optics and lean my helm back against the headrest of the chair, relaxing until my audio receptors pick up a quiet sound at the stairway.

Looking over, I'm once again fooled by Devcon's striking likeness to my father, forgetting where I am for a moment. The mech walks in without a word, looking around the cluttered office.

Turning his gold optics to me, he nods, "Ya look just like 'im, kid. He'd sit just like that, always having the window in the corner of his optic. Always lookin' like he had everything handled."

Shifting, I stand from the chair, brushing some of the dust off my backside before approaching my uncle, "Do you think he would've left what we need here? Doesn't seem like the safest of places to leave something of value…"

Devcon smirks and reaches out, patting my shoulder, "Nah, it ain't much of a fortress, but that's what makes it such a great hiding place. Who would think the key to this whole mess would be locked up in some shanty shack?"

I hum lightly in agreement, my optics turning to scour over the office, "Now to just find the map reader…"

"If he even had one. For all we know, he might've left us with the coordinates for a merchant who knows a guy who knows a guy that has one." Putting his hands on his hips, Devcon releases a vent of air, feeling there's some hard work ahead of us.

"Maybe." I look over to the stairway as three more bodies enter from it.

Siren's optics grow to fit half of his face as he looks around, and I feel a bit of pride as he makes the effort to interlace his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching anything. Looking between him and Hosehead, I speak up, "Alright, be careful about what you touch, but start looking for anything that might tip us off on where we could find a reader for the sphere map." Receiving a set of nods from Hosehead and Siren, I begin my own search through the dusty office.

It isn't long, however, before I'm distracted by my father's personal files, my spark sinking every time I find a hand-written memo from him. Looking through one particular file, I even find a set of pictures taken when I was a sparkling, my mother holding me in most of the shots with a glowing smile on her face. I'm either sleeping or shyly hiding in them. Everything stops, however, when I find a picture that has all three of us, and I realize… this is the first time I've seen my father's face in a decade. How is it that I've not seen pictures of him until now? Doesn't Mom have any?

Maybe she put them away… or maybe I told her to put them away, I can't really remember. It's been so long, I've never even thought about it.

I sit down against the wall, resting the file of pictures on my lap as I hold up the one that has my father's face in it. Look how tall he was, I guess I don't get my short stature from him. Devcon's tall, too, so it must be from my mother's side. He's got the same golden optics that Devcon and I have. His face is a dark silver, like Devcon's. Mom's is pale orange like mine. I never realized how big and built he was, I wonder if I'll fill out like him. As it is, I might as well be walking around with sticks for arms.

"What'd you find?"

I look up to the source of the voice to find Hosehead looking down at me and I clear my throat, subspacing the pictures before I stand, "I've got nothing, not a single mention of the map or a reader for it. We might be on the wrong trail."

"I'm starting to agree with ya, kid. If that ore is from Pz-Zazz, though, then we could at least be on the right planet. But, we might have to find our own map reader."

Fera sighs, "Good luck with that. Antiquated things don't tend to survive in places like this, and who knows if they're even made anymore."

She's right. There's a chance it's been ages since my father had this map made, there's no telling if the technology that created it is still around.

We could be running on a cold trail, with no other way to turn.

"Hey, Nightbeat…"

I rub my face, anxiety beginning to seep into my spark, "What is it, Siren?"

"Come look at this."

Perking up, I look over to where my younger partner is at a window, looking through an old telescope. Tilting my helm curiously, I walk over, "What is it?"

The pale blue mech continues peering through the scope for a moment before looking to me, "I haven't moved this telescope, look where it's pointed…"

I pause, frowning lightly in thought before bending over a little to look through the scope, "Hey… Devcon, what building is that?" I move out of the way so the taller mech can take a look at where the scope is pointed.

A smile slowly spreads on Devcon's faceplates, a chuckle rising from his vocalizer, "You sneaky little jerk, so that's where you hid it…" Lifting his helm away from the scope, he gazes out the window in the direction of the building, "That's the old museum, the last of its kind on this planet." He looks to Fera with a smirk, "An exception for the list of destroyed antiquities." Turning, he starts towards the stairway, "In a place like that, the map reader could be hidden in plain sight, not to mention it's the only guarded place on the whole planet, free security!"

I turn to follow after him, "What kind of security? Government security?"

Devcon scoffs, "You think there's a government here? Nah, kid, try _mob protection._ One of the big boss baddies around here has a thing for the times of old, maybe he thinks it makes him look more sophisticated or somethin'. No tellin' how my brother even managed to sneak somethin' in there, but I wouldn't put it past his abilities…"

Just as Devcon is about to make his way down the staircase, a loud explosion suddenly rips through the building as plumes of fire burst in through the windows in the downstairs entrance room. I'm pushed back onto the floor by the force of the blast as the windows in the upstairs office are shattered by it, my audios ringing and filled with the startled shouts of the others.

"**Nightbeat! Seekers!"** Siren's voice manages to cut through the ringing fog in my audio receptors, and my tanks sink as the words translate through my processor.

Seekers? Here? But how?

Lifting my helm, my optics feel as though they may pop right outta my face as I see a familiar blur of red and white paint—Starscream.

As if on cue, his irritatingly shrill voice shrieks through the debris, "Thanks for the insider's knowledge, children, I think it's time you leave the rest of the detective work to us!"

Another blast, and the wall by my father's desk is blown apart, taking his chair and window with it. The room fills with chaos as a barrage of blaster shots fill the air—from the inside of the building. Looking to my side, I find Devcon, Fera, and Hosehead all lighting up the air with their guns, keeping the Seekers at bay on the outside.

Joining in the firefight, I brandish my own blaster and stand up on my knees behind some cover, taking aim before firing at a black and purple Seeker that darts by one of the windows. Why haven't they just shot a round of missiles, blown the whole place up?

They must know I have the sphere map. They know they need it if they're gonna find what Megatron's so desperately searching for. How could they have found out about it?

Could they have already made contact with Lockdown? I figured he would've been scrapped by that Dinobot… There's no way to be sure, but that's not what I should have my mind on right now.

"We've gotta get outta here, we're a sitting target!"

Devcon ducks down as a blast from a Seeker's Null Ray almost grazes his helm, "Great idea, kid, but we can't exactly go out the back door! The place is surrounded, we've gotta fight 'em here!"

I growl, "That's suicide, we don't have the firepower to take down even one Seeker!" My attention is distracted from Devcon for a moment as one of the Seekers outside suddenly releases a sharp cry as his wing is shot. Turning to see who fired off the good shot, my jaw drops when my optics land on Siren, holding a smoking blaster, "Siren… Nice shot!"

The younger mech's optics are wide as his bottom jaw shivers, my words not reaching him for a moment before he flinches and laughs nervously, **"Thanks!"**

There must be a way out of here, we'll be slaughtered if we stay! The room downstairs is filled with fire, and the heat is starting to make its way through the floor of the office—if we're not shot to death we'll be cooked. My onlined olfactory sensors pick up the rancor smell of the dirty river outside—and a plan hits me.

"Devcon! You know how to swim?"

Fera's eyes widen as she looks to me, "What did you just say?"

My uncle looks to me as if I'm insane for a moment before flinching as a stray Null Ray round ricochets off his thick shoulder armor. Standing, he shoots out a window on the far side of the office that looks out to the river, the building nestled up along the edge of the bridge passing over it. Siren and Hosehead seem to be getting the idea, but also seem to be having trouble believing it.

We'll be putting ourselves out in the open the moment we leave that window, but once we're in that muggy water, we'll disappear. But wait—what about Fera? Cybertronians can stay underwater just fine for however long they need to, but organics need air!

It's too late to voice my concerns as Devcon pushes Hosehead out before grabbing onto Siren, shouting to me, "C'mon, kid! Move yer aft!" Just as he jumps out with his arm around Siren like a shield, I look to the blown out hole in the other wall where my father's chair had been—and find that the Seekers have lined themselves up in their jet modes to presumably turn the building into a scrap yard.

"Devcon!" Fera's emerald eyes are alit with shock and perhaps even a hint of fear as she watches her partner haul aft out the window, and I can see that she's not anywhere near ready to take the jump herself.

Sorry, honey. It's for your own good.

Running to Fera's side, I hook my arm around her waist before bolting for the window just as I hear the Seekers' weapons lock and load. I'm not sure if what I hear next is Fera's screaming or the sound of machine guns tearing up the office as I jump out the window, keeping the woman pinned close to my chassis in hopes of guarding her from any stray projectiles.

Starscream's voice bites through the chaotic air, "Don't let him escape!"

The next thing I know, there's suddenly a tear in the very sky above me as we plummet towards the river, a purple vapor spilling out—along with a dark-armored Seeker. Raising my blaster, I let the fragger have it, my audio receptors finally giving in to white noise as I watch my shot rip into the Seeker's face.

Did I kill him?

I've never killed anybot before.

The water is cold as ice as my back strikes into it, the murky liquid consuming me into pitch darkness along with the mysterious woman in my hold.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: I really have no idea how long this story will be, I just keep adding more and more to it XD; But hopefully ya'll will enjoy the ride, much love is being put into it! Also, hopefully I'll get more fanart for this story put up on my DA page, Siren's design has been staring at me on my desk for quite a while now.

SezWho: Haha I'm also a fan of Devcon, despite how cruddy of an uncle he's been, there just might be hope for him XD Also, more of Hosehead to be revealed in today's chapter, hopefully that'll satiate some of your curiosity of 'im! X)

Blackpanther: I'm glad you felt some of the weight behind Nightbeat's little two-sentence thoughts after he shot Skywarp, it's a big event for him.

Thank you to my Reviewers and Readers! You guys rock! Please Enjoy ^_^

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><p>The biting cold seeps through armor and digs into wires, the pure black of the water masks vision and induces utter blindness, sounds are veiled and reverberated like distant war drums.<p>

He's taken back to that night—the night his Colony was attacked.

_Sparklings had screamed as they were ripped from their parents' arms, the vocalizers of the elders crying for deliverance, the sparks of the warriors giving to the brutal poisons of the Slaver's weapons. _

_Hosehead and his sisters—some younger, some older—had escaped through the back door of their father's home. He hadn't wished to leave, instead he had wanted to stay with his father, to fight alongside him, but he was ordered to take his sisters and escape—protect them. _

_He failed. _

_The moment they had reached the edge of the river, to board a boat that could have been their salvation, a bright fire had lit up in the sky—white phosphorous, with a red glow along the edges. The Slavers had followed them, surrounded them within sparkbeats. _

_Hosehead tried to save them—he tried to protect them, he used his fists and his teeth and his legs but it hadn't been enough. His fighting efforts earned him a dunk in the black river, the organic hands of his sisters' captors holding him under to ease his strength into numbness. When his vision was beginning to fade, and his thoughts were clouded, he remembers hearing the voices of his sisters rise the moment he was lifted from the waters, limp—had one of them been killed? _

He doesn't know. Maybe he'll never know.

Hosehead releases most of his air as he struggles to free himself from the black waters of the channel that runs through the heart of Pz-Zazz's capital, his turquoise visor shedding bright light on the eerie, churning clouds of muck that envelopes him in every direction. His chassis is twisted and flipped in the powerful current, his flailing limbs finding no leverage or stability in the gripping waters.

Maybe he'll be rammed into a rock, or a wall of the channel, hard enough to break his helm open and destroy the memories he holds within it. Maybe he'll continue to be tossed about forever in the water, thoughts replaying and tangling within it, maybe it's his punishment, his penance—he deserves it.

A powerful hand suddenly catches onto Hosehead's shoulder just as he's about to make peace with his doom, and he's slung out of the water by one strong pull. The red Colonist purges the tainted, muddy water from his intakes as he's set down on his knees, the powerful hand moving from his shoulder to give him a hardy pat on the back to encourage the rest of the water from his systems.

Hosehead's legs and arms feel brittle and frozen, but still manage to give light tremors as he gathers himself. He ignores it, however, as he remains locked in his mind. He let himself slip again, slip into those thoughts, the ones he promised he would never look to again. The thoughts of self-pity, self-ending; the utterly pathetic, miserable thoughts that drive him further from his sisters' forgiveness.

He can't let himself go down that road, there would be no redemption from such a shameful demise.

The world around Hosehead suddenly becomes vividly lucid as his senses sharpen, a deep vent of air filling his intakes as he steadies himself. He blinks and turns his helm as he realizes the hand that rescued him remains on his back, and looks up to find who's at the other end.

"Primus, kid, you're white as a ghost… Take it easy, just get yourself breathin'…" Devcon's faceplates are constricted in a look of worry as he rubs and pats the red-clad mech's back, earning a few wheezy coughs from him.

Letting out the rest of the water from his systems, Hosehead closes his optics for a moment, willing himself back into a steady, steeled state of mind. However, his audios perk up as the sound of light, running steps suddenly catches his attention. He looks to his other side just as Siren is kneeling down beside him, seeming to be inexplicably energetic, optics alit and faceplates bright with color.

"Hosehead, you okay? That was really somethin' back there, huh… I can't believe I actually shot that bot in the wing, I wonder if Seekers can die from being shot in the wing…"

Sitting up, the red mech nods to Devcon before looking to Siren, "What about Nightbeat?"

Siren looks up to Devcon to answer, and the bounty hunter obliges, a small screen folding up from his forearm, "Fera's got a tracker on her, it looks like they somehow got rushed further down the channel than we did. But, they're closer to the museum, and knowing Fera—and, assuming Nightbeat's like my brother—they're probably not gonna wait up for us. So, I suggest we first get ourselves on our peds, then we run like the Pit to that museum."

Hosehead nods, flinching a bit as a set of hands unexpectedly holds his shoulders to help him up, looking to the owner—Siren—before calming. Standing slowly, he shakes his helm before vigorously stretching his chassis, reaching his arms up to get the energon flowing through his lines again.

"I hope they're alright…" Siren's voice is quiet, his optics dimming, apparently coming down from his adrenaline rush.

Devcon looks over to Siren and reaches an arm out, hooking it around the pale blue youngling's helm and giving it a light half-hug, "Don't worry, kid. Fera's tough as nails, and Nightbeat… well, like I keep saying: if he's anything like my brother…"

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><p>"I'm fine, Fera." I scrunch up my nose and grimace as the woman's hands are all over my face, cupping my cheeks and wiping muck from my chin. Great, so she must see me as a child if this is how she's treating me. Kinda disappointed, I gotta say.<p>

Fera gives a huff and nods, forcing herself to stop babying me and pats my shoulders with her hands, "Alright, you just… you just looked pale, I'm just worried."

I nod lightly to show my appreciation for her concern before looking around the shallow aqueduct tunnel we've climbed into, it having been the only exit from the powerful channel we'd all been tossed into. Strangely, I don't feel too worried about Siren or Hosehead—Devcon was with them, they're probably fine. Granted, I'm worried that Siren is on this planet at all to begin with, but that's just something I'll have to deal with.

"Alright, Fera, you know this city, right?" I receive a nod and continue, "You know how far we are from the museum?"

"It's not far from here, actually, we could probably make it there a lot quicker using these subsurface tunnels, too." A curious smirk crosses her lips and makes me feel uncertain for a moment, "It's how I used to get around, after all. A girl can't be too careful in this city, it's best to just not be seen altogether."

I nod, finding the explanation believable enough. I wonder what it must be like, to be a female, to have that one factor about yourself be the thing that puts you in the most danger wherever you go.

'S gotta suck.

Pushing my ever-so deep contemplations aside, I extend my arm out in a gesture to the woman, "Lead the way, then. We're only losing sunlight… I think." Again, it's kinda hard to tell what time of day—or night—it is on this vacation-y planet.

Fera pauses, "You don't think we should wait to regroup with Devcon and the others?"

I raise an optic ridge, surprised she wouldn't be on board with my plan from the get-go, "Uh… Nope. A bigger group just makes for a bigger target, we don't wanna make a scene, we just wanna be in and outta that place before whoever's guarding it catches wind of us."

Fera's lip puckers in thought for a moment, emerald eyes rolling around before she shrugs and nods with a smile, "Makes sense well enough. Let's go, then." Walking past me, she dances her fingertips playfully across my shoulder before giving a surprising poke to the tip of my nose.

Flirt. Not that I mind in the slightest.

I turn to follow her, the tunnels intersecting and turning all over the place—I wonder if even Prowl could keep a grid of a place like this organized in his processor. As we take another turn, I pipe up in curiosity, "Hey, how'd you learn this place so well? I didn't think you lived here that long…"

Fera smirks and glances back at me, "About a year, and trust me… When a girl's got someplace to go, she'll get there."

Hm. Not sure that really answered my question.

After a dizzying walk through the labyrinth of subsurface aqueduct tunnels, Fera finally stops at a ladder that leads up to the surface. However, I frown lightly as she pauses, "Fera? What is it?"

The woman keeps her eyes forward for a moment before she turns and looks to me, a look on her face that I've not yet seen before—is it hesitance? Her red lips move slightly a few times before her voice finally follows through, "Nightbeat, do you trust me?"

I pause. Where'd that come from? If anything, now I'm just on-edge from that question… wait, could this have something to do with whatever's happening between her and Hosehead? There was something he tried telling me, something about her, and he didn't seem at all happy about whatever it was he knew…

She's only been a help to us so far, we probably would've been chopped up and mailed to Megatron if she hadn't been Devcon's messenger back on Nexus. Putting all that aside, now isn't the time to doubt her—or to have her doubt me. She's the only way I'm getting into that museum, I can't risk having this fall apart when we're so close. There's no real reason why I shouldn't trust her, I mean… Devcon trusts her. I'm not about to praise him for his brilliant intellect, but I won't down-talk on it either.

I nod slowly, "Yeah… I trust you." And for some reason, that's the truth.

The emerald eyes bore into my visor for a moment before she appears to de-tense a bit, sighing, "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Your friend, the red one—Hosehead… There's something he knows about me, but I would rather you hear it from me instead…"

"Fera…" I gently interrupt her, "You can tell me later, right now we gotta move. Those Seekers are still out there, albeit perhaps one mech short…"

Strange, I don't even feel much anymore in regards to shooting that dark purple one in the face… I wonder if he lived or not. Maybe it'll hit me later, or… maybe it won't. Sometimes bots can kill and it won't affect them much, sometimes they can see a dead body and not flinch or grimace. Dad always said that's the mark of the kind of mech that grows up to be a detective, or cop, or soldier.

Fera catches the message and nods, "Alright, later, then." She nods again before starting up the ladder, but blinks as I gently catch hold of her arm and gives me a curious look.

"Let me stick my head up there first, make sure the coast is clear. Wouldn't want some bruiser up there to smudge your lipstick."

The woman smirks at the chivalrous offer and steps off the ladder, and before I know what's happening—she's got her lips pressed against mine. The sensation isn't how I had ever expected a kiss to feel like, it's tingly and warm, and hardly there. Before I can even think to return or reject the gesture, her lips are already retreating, a smirk spreading across them.

"You're right. I'd rather let a sweet one like you smudge it." Her eyes are like smoky pools, filled with hidden daggers and dangers.

Primus she's a looker.

It takes me a moment to fully process what just happened, my mouth hanging a bit in a stunned look, cheeks lighting up like one of Wheeljack's experiments, paralyzed by the kiss before I clear my throat and give a dumb nod in reply. Can't even get my words to work, that kiss must've short-circuited something in my vocalizer. Turning, I start my way up the ladder, still trying to figure out what just happened, trying to remember what those lips felt like, the memory painfully fleeting.

Whaddaya know, Mom was right—I _am_ at the _'girl crazy'_ phase in life. Not only that, but I think now I'm hooked.

I pause as I reach the manhole cover at the top of the ladder, having no idea what to expect on the topside of it, and look down at Fera with a smile, "So if there _is_ a bruiser up there and I take a few hits for ya—are ya gonna kiss it all better?"

She returns the smile, "Depends how hard he hits you, I suppose."

* * *

><p>"You look good, Minerva. I only ever got to see you through that crystal cube your mate carried around. You look good."<p>

Minerva looks to the bounty hunter's optics, "Why should I trust you, Lockdown? My mate told me his share of stories about you… Not to mention, you were going to turn my son over to the highest bidder."

"Money ain't a part of this now. This is personal now."

"Why? You knew who my son was when you captured him, who his father was—"

"Yeah, I did. I've changed my mind about how I wanna go about this. Seeing you… made me remember my roots. Made me remember what's really important."

Minerva scoffs lightly, "You're going to tell me that money isn't what's most important to you. Really."

Lockdown huffs and glances off, "Listen, you can drag my face through the dirt later, right now I need an answer from you." The mech's sharp optics turn to the femme, "You got a better plan then what I'm offering up? Fine, then. But if not… then you're gonna have to do things my way. No Praxian, no Dinobot."

The Capri native's optics dim in thought. She has to get to her son, as quickly as possible. There's no telling what kind of danger he's in, who's taken him, if he's hurt…

Sorry, Prowl. This is the only way.

Minerva looks to Lockdown, "Alright. I'll do it. But you're keeping the stasis cuffs on, you're not gonna give me the slip."

Lockdown chuckles and nods obligingly, watching as the femme reaches for the controls to launch off the cockpit they're occupying from the back half of the ship—the half that Prowl and Grimlock are currently waiting in, unknowing of what's about to happen. The two mechs still have the ability to guide their section of the ship, but will be lacking most navigational location tools.

Prowl's smart. He'll figure a way to get himself and Grimlock back to Cybertron.

Before hitting the final command key, Minerva turns her helm to look to the bounty hunter's optics, "You're going to take me to my son."

Lockdown returns the gaze and nods, "Straight to 'im."


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: Another week, another chapter! Thank you so much to my reviewers, SezWho and Blackpanther (along with the rest of ya who pop in a word here 'n there! XD), and also my anonymous reviewers! Reading your comments and thoughts on the story is always such a treat, I really appreciate that ya'll let me know how I'm doing and what gets ya excited in my story X) 3 I hope everyone's doing well, I know this can be a stressful time of year, but don't forget to kick back and do the things you enjoy every so often to relax!

Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>There's not a tracking method that could ever surpass it. The scientists of Cybertron have made their pretty-sounding theories of how it exists, how it can be so strong. For Lockdown, it is a coveted device.<p>

The sixth sense of a mother, the pull her spark feels towards that of her child.

"You sure that's the right way?" Lockdown smirks faintly, though the expression is somewhat veiled and distorted by the sharp, twisting tattoos on his face.

Minerva doesn't bother to look back at Lockdown as she follows the deep tug in her spark, walking briskly through the dirty streets of the capital city of Pz-Zazz, "I'm positive. My kid's always had a way of getting himself lost… this isn't my first rodeo."

Lockdown withholds a chuckle. He can see why _The Capri_ fell for her. He won't judge her intelligence by her decision to ditch the Praxian and Dinobot and go off with him, though. He's all too aware of a mother's desperation when it comes to her kid. So easy.

Minerva picks up her pace as she feels a sudden hitch in her child's distant spark—could he be in danger? Has he been hurt? Chaos seems to be a constant factor on this planet so far, it's difficult to tell what's going on around the streets. How did he even end up on this planet? Lockdown only told her so much of what happened, but he didn't mention how it is Nightbeat managed to escape his hold—or fly to another planet.

Truly, Nightbeat is his father. How else to explain it? A child, finding a ship, _leaving_ his home planet, chasing who-knows-what kind of conspiracy theories in an unfamiliar quadrant of the galaxy, interacting with—with _organics_ and other kinds of aliens…

Her late sparkmate told her stories of how he and Devcon used to end up on the far sides of Cybertron when they were only children… she had trouble believing that sparklings could honestly accomplish such things, but from raising Nightbeat—she's a true believer now.

"Hold up."

The bounty hunter's words hardly process before Minerva releases a sharp gasp, going into fight-mode as the mech following her suddenly grabs a hold of her, his arm locking around her neck. What happened to the stasis cuffs he was just wearing? She knew she shouldn't have trusted him; this could be the worst mistake she's ever made—or ever will! She just had to know where her son was, he was the only one who could've gotten her here fast enough!

As Minerva's thoughts melt into a rage, her optics flare as she realizes why the bounty hunter was suddenly spooked—up ahead, at the entrance of an alleyway, a few bots…

"Lockdown, already back up on yer peds?" A set of golden optics narrow sharply as a tall, midnight blue form slowly approaches. A small, pale blue mech with large optics follows, joined by another in unique, red armor; like nothing on Cybertron.

Lockdown growls lowly, his hook folding out from his previously restrained wrist compartment, the pointed tip resting over Minerva's throat, "Devcon. Where's the brat? Looks like your little crew is short a few…"

Devcon's bright optics dart between his ex-partner and Minerva, spark racing for several different reasons. He raises his hands slowly, "We lost 'im."

Minerva's optics widen at the revelation, feeling a bit dazed and shocked by her supposedly dead brother-in-law's sudden appearance. Her optics move past the tall mech and begin to shimmer as they land on Siren, the pale blue youngling like a second son to her.

Lockdown scoffs gruffly and tightens his arm around Minerva's neck, "Oh, you _lost _him, did ya? Primus, Devvy, as if you couldn't find more ways to royally slag up your brother's happy little family…" He presses his hook further against the femme's throat, "Not gonna buy it today, partner. I've known you long enough to know when you're pullin' a fast one—only, these days, you've gotten a lot slower."

Siren's chest tightens as he looks to Minerva, unable to hold off his vocalizer, **"Don't hurt her! Please!"** A few light tears run down his cheeks, a wall of emotions striking him hard at the sight of Nightbeat's mother—the one adult who's ever really given a scrap about him. Hosehead grips his arm as he tries going forward, fists clenching.

"Siren, baby, just stay back, honey, everything's gonna be okay…" Minerva swallows lightly as Lockdown gives a warning squeeze to her neck to shut her up.

Devcon grinds his teeth furiously, "So what're you gonna do, Lockdown? Ya gonna kill my brother's wife? Yer not gonna get yer hands on my nephew again! So I'll give you a choice: you can either keep playing your _hostage situation_ game, and I'll come over there and beat the slag so hard outta you that you'll be purging teeth outta yer tailpipe for eons; or, you can let her go, get the frag off this rock, and I'll let you go."

The two bounty hunters lock optics, neither one seeming much impressed or intimidated by the other, a stand-still coming to pass on the empty street. Slowly, the tension begins growing to be too much to handle as Siren unconsciously takes in a deep breath, on the verge of screaming his head off; maybe he could bust up Lockdown's repaired optics again.

Before Siren even releases a peep, however, he jolts as Lockdown is suddenly shot from behind, the bright flash of the blast washing out everybot's optics for a moment. A loud thud is heard, and Lockdown is on his knees with a steaming wound in his back, Minerva dropped on her side next to him.

"**Minerva!"** Siren wrenches himself away from Hosehead's hold and bolts forward, Devcon trying to catch him by his shoulder but missing. He skids on his knees beside Minerva and wraps his arms around the jumbled femme, her audios ringing from the loud blast. Turning his optics upward, Siren gasps as his vision is filled with familiar shades of red and white, **"You…!"**

Starscream grins sharply, "Yes, child, _me_." With a fast kick to Lockdown's back, the Seeker sends the dark bounty hunter face-down onto the ground, seemingly deactivated. The Air Commander cackles, "Dearest, dearest Lockdown… He never did get the _hint_, always trying to step on my toes and take my well-deserved glory…" He raises one of his arm-mounted Null Rays, the glowing barrel aimed at Siren's forehead, "Now then, let's just pick off wherever you left off with old Lock_dead_ over there…"

Minerva regains her wits and slowly wraps her arms around Siren protectively, not making any quick movements that might spook the tall Seeker that her back is turned to.

"Starscream, let them go… take me instead, I know what Megatron wants and I know where it is…"

Starscream's lip twitches into an angry snarl as he looks to the midnight blue mech, "And just who do you think you—" His jaw drops for a moment as he takes a good look at the mech, "Your voice, it… it sounds familiar… Wait a klik… You're… You're the _Capri Detective!_ You're the one who's botched our missions and made a fool out of me before Megatron!"

Starscream shifts both his attention and his Null Ray to Devcon, but just as he's frantically adjusting his aim—a set of teeth suddenly clamp down onto his hand, drawing a startled shriek from him as he releases a random shot from his Null Ray. Siren sinks his bite as deep as he can into the Seeker's hand, venting all his anger and frustration on the appendage before letting go as he's flung away and hits hard into a nearby wall.

"Y-You brat—!" The enraged Seeker swings his arm around to blast the downed youngling, but is once more interrupted as Minerva takes her shot and tackles him down. Before he knows it, Starscream is surrounded and flattened down by three vicious bots, fists and elbows and knees and peds stomping and pounding on his chassis from all directions. The red Colonist to his left begins maiming his wings with a large, curved dagger; the midnight blue Detective to his right is pounding his face flatter and flatter by the nano-klik, while the femme with fiery optics is beating her fists against his chest and manages to send hairline fractures through his spark casing.

It seems like it lasts an eternity for the Seeker, whereas for the three attackers, it all flashes by in a blind, white rage. Eventually, Devcon, Minerva, and Hosehead back off from their battered victim, intakes pumping air to cool their heated systems. Turning, the femme quickly goes to Siren's side, gently feeling around the youngling's neck to make sure nothing is damaged in his spinal strut from being thrown into the wall.

Siren blinks on his optics and looks up at her, "Is he gone?"

Minerva bites her lip and glances back at the deathly still form of Starscream before looking down at Siren and nods, "Yes, he's gone…"

* * *

><p>"Is he gone?"<p>

I nod, keeping my optics focused on the back alley behind the museum, watching as a guard goes beyond the corner out of sight. Going in through the back door—or any door, for that matter—has never been my style. Maybe Fera's afraid of getting her little micro-mini clothes caught on something by climbing around, thus her insistence on taking this route.

However, I have to try arguing again as I glance back at her, the two of us crouching low in a side alley, "You _really_ wanna go in through the back door? You don't think they've got guards posted right on the other side of it? I'm tellin' ya, we could go in through an air duct, a window, maybe find some kinda opening in the ceiling…"

Fera pouts, "Hey, who's the one who's actually _been_ in that museum before? Me, not you. I don't do all that climbing around that you and your uncle seem to be so bent towards, there's no reason to waste the energy. Or to get dirty."

I let Fera linger on her own words for a moment, feeling a strong urge to remind her we were just walking around in what smelled like a sewage tunnel. However, I decide I like my head on my shoulders, so I keep my mouth shut, still receiving a haughty glare from the woman.

Primus, she's a looker.

A little pinch to my side tells me that I must've been grinning at her without realizing it, and I only grin more. Releasing a sigh, I give in, "Alright, fine, we'll take our chances with the back door. Honestly, though, don't you _hear_ how ridiculous that sounds? Here, lemme say it again so you can listen to it more carefully—" I'm about to slowly word out the plan again when the woman takes a hold of my chin and squishes my lips shut, though I continue to move them just to be a smartaft.

"We're going in through the back door, and that's the last of it. Now, let's stop wasting time before that guard comes back around here."

I smile brightly at her, "Wasting time? Aw, but I've always enjoyed our together-time, I hardly ever get to have you to myself, y'know…"

She rolls her emerald eyes at me before allowing a smirk to ghost over her ruby lips, her hand sliding onto my arm before she suddenly tugs me along as she darts out into the alleyway, heading to the back door of the museum.

In the back of my mind, I can't stop wondering what her secret is, what the big beef Hosehead has with her… and the strangest thing is—whose side do I take? I've hardly known Fera for very long, and I've known Hosehead for even less time. They've both helped me and Siren out of several life or death situations, and I'm starting to grow a little fond spot for each of them. Maybe I shouldn't take sides at all, maybe it's really none of my business…

But Hosehead seemed desperate to make it my business. And that throws up red flags.

My attention is brought back to the present as I notice Fera is bent over in front of the door, jamming thin, metal sticks into what I assume is a door handle… they still _make_ door handles? Back on Cybertron, there's just a door and a keypad that you enter your code into… I've only seen _door handles_ in history books. Weird.

I keep a lookout for the guard we saw passing around here earlier as Fera works her magic on the primeval door lock, but unconsciously my optics find their way back to Fera's form, silently appreciating her feminine curves and curious, organic characteristics.

"Enjoying the view?" I can hear the smirk in her voice.

Primus, she's got eyes in the back of her head!

I blush brightly and grin in embarrassment, clearing my throat a bit, "Yeah, looks like there's a full moon out…"

Fera scoffs and rolls her eyes as she twists the hacked door handle, "Who taught you to talk like that? I swear, you sound just like your uncle…"

Following her, I chuckle quietly, "I guess being a smooth-talker just runs in the family…"

"Uh huh. Smooth, right. Send me a memo when the 'smooth' part enters the stage."

I chuckle, "Y'know, Fera, I'd really like to steal you away from Devcon when all this is over, it's so hard to find a good sparring partner where I come from…"

The woman glances over her bare shoulder at me and gives a deceivingly coy, soft smile, "Y'know, Nightbeat, in a way you already have."


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: Yeah, I'm pretty sure this story is gonna be something near the same number of chapters as the first one, I hope ya'll have been enjoying the ride! My deepest thanks again to my lovely reviewers, and thank you SezWho and Blackpanther for letting me know what your thoughts on the last chapter were-and Sez, I slipped in some Grim and Prowl for ya, figured it was time to catch up with their situation XD

To my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Grimlock, you don't know what you're doing, <em>I <em>will navigate."

"Praxian don't know where we going."

"I know _exactly_ where we're going. We're going to trace our steps back and _return _to Cybertron. It's the quickest and only way that we're going to attain another ship and get back out here to continue our search. This mode of transportation simply will only waste precious time if we continue on with it." Prowl's door panels twitch on his back as his hands dart across the main control panels for the disconnected back-end of their once whole ship—its current state of being courtesy of Minerva and that bounty hunter they picked up.

Grimlock releases a deep hiss, his shoulders broadening and puffing up as he looks down at the comparably tiny mech, "Waste too much time. Took Praxian eons to get first ship. Losing your nerve."

Said Praxian turns his helm sharply to the Dinobot, a look of anxious vexation plastered across his face as he speaks through gritted teeth, "I'm losing my _nerve?_ The last thing we need right now is brash actions! We must be precise and _efficient_ if we're going to do it at all!"

"Kid could be dead by the time we get new ship from Cybertron." The large mech leans down a little, deep voice gurgling, "We steal new ship. Plenty of ships around here, filled with squishy pilots. Easy game."

Prowl's cold optics narrow in warning, "Grimlock I've warned you before, I will _not_ engage in such activities, nor will I allow it."

A scoff comes from the Dinobot, "Not gonna allow it? Try to stop me, Praxian? Universe ain't the place for being good—it's for being dead or being the winner." With that, Grimlock shoves Prowl away from the navigation controls with ease and turns the ship around.

Prowl catches himself against the wall, "I am not going to allow this!"

"You allowed femme on ship, 'got no more say in it."

"_What? _Her presence aboard this vessel when we took off was beyond my knowledge, and as I recall _you_ were the one who deemed it acceptable!" Feeling that they're losing precious time, Prowl finally comes to his last option, drawing an Enforcer-grade electro-baton from subspace and detracts it.

Grimlock narrows his optics behind his ruby visor, slowly turning them to look down at the bold Praxian, "Got a date with Primus? Gonna get to 'im fast if you think that stick gonna work on me." He turns the rest of his frame to tower over the Enforcer, massive hands clenching and easing in anticipation for carnage.

"Grimlock, I won't put innocent beings in harm's way to save another. We're returning to Cybertron, and we're going to do things the right way."

The Dinobot scoffs harshly, "The 'right way' to Sentinel Prime is to let the kid disappear and stay gone. Think you on the right side?" The large mech bends his knees as he prepares to charge, "Gonna learn real quick which side gonna win."

Before further words can be tossed, Grimlock scrapes his peds against the floor before charging dead ahead, the small space in the ship making it impossible to evade his attack. Prowl should have known better than to draw a weapon on such a volatile creature, the action proving to be the catalyst to the killer's rage. The Praxian does not have the time to even begin calculating a defensive countermeasure before he's smashed into by the other's hurtling chassis. Grimlock's forward momentum, however, doesn't stop as they slam into the wall, and in the next moment an audio-shattering explosion of air and metal being torn and shot out into space washes out Prowl's senses.

Did Grimlock just—? He broke through the hull of this ship, they've been launched out into the void!

Prowl watches as the ship grows further away, the speed of Grimlock's mad dash sending them tumbling through the empty space. This can't be real, they'll be left rolling through space until they strike into something—the chances of which are slim in a place so infinitely expansive and empty! He knew Grimlock was mental, but he thought the Dinobot at least had enough disks running in his processor to consider the factor of survival before acting!

The white-clad mech looks up to the Dinobot—who, oddly enough, still has a hold of him—and lets loose a slur of infuriated curses; all of which go unheard in the silent vacuum of space. Grimlock, however, doesn't seem to be paying attention, his visor directed beyond the Praxian's shoulder to something in the black. Prowl takes notice of the unbreakable gaze and turns his helm to follow the other's line of sight, optics widening when he catches on.

Far below them, a decent sized ship with a red hull silently passes through the void. By some stroke of pure luck (Prowl certainly won't credit Grimlock of having the smarts), their current trajectory is aimed to collide with the ship within moments.

Fragging Dinobot. So this is what he does to get his way? Completely bash all other options into oblivion so that his way is the only one? Or, did Grimlock even know the other ship was there? Their navigation controls aboard the halved ship lacked any kind of radar, the back end of the vessel likely only designed for orbit-to-planet cargo transport… is this dumb luck or is Grimlock somehow smarter than he appears?

Grimlock's voice suddenly crackles over Prowl's comlink, :Stay outta my way when we board. Go ahead 'n hide in corner while I get done what needs to get done.:

:We should _ask_ for assistance from whoever is aboard that ship, Grimlock, we won't be any better than Lockdown if we just pillage and victimize them.:

:Funny you should say that.: Grimlock grunts lightly as he plants his peds onto the hull of the red ship, :Cuz this is Lockdown's ship.:

* * *

><p>The fog rises from the potholes and sewage vents in the streets of Pz-Zazz's capital city, the fiery sky slowly seeping into the distance as a blue tone of darkness spills over in its place. A tall, lone form approaches that of a fallen one, stopping to observe.<p>

Thundercracker's bright yellow optics stare down at his out-of-commission Air Commander, a look of indifference on his steeled features. A sigh vents through the blue Seeker's intakes, "Seems we didn't learn well from our first encounter with the Capri child seven years ago."

Kneeling, he checks Starscream's vitals, glancing around at the scuff marks on the ground that indicate a clear struggle. Odd thing is, it looks like there was another body lying dormant on the ground close by; whoever it was, they're long gone. Thundercracker shakes his helm, "It looks like it's time to call Megatron, Starscream."

Just as the blue mech is raising his finger to online his comlink, however, one of Starscream's hands shoots up and catches a hold of the other's wrist. The Air Commander's voice is raspier than usual as he hisses up at his subordinate, "Call Megatron… and I will cut out your glossa, Thundercracker…"

Thundercracker's look of indifference holds its place as he stares down at the battered flyer for a moment, "Skywarp is hardly any better off than you are, Commander… We need to count our loses and—"

"And _what_, Thundercracker?" A vapor of energon mists from between Starscream's clenched teeth as he forces himself to sit upright, "Return to Megatron in defeat yet _again_? You're a fool, Thundercracker. We would only end up in _worse_ conditions if we were to go back now. It's just _one_ child and a few _low-life_ scums. How hard should it be to take _one_ child?"

A moment of silence falls over the two Seekers as they stare at one another.

Starscream growls and pushes Thundercracker away, "Shut _up_."

* * *

><p>"Minerva, Mini—come on, don't cry… Nightbeat's safe, he's with a friend of mine…" Devcon glances to Siren and Hosehead a bit as he embraces his sister-in-law, trying to comfort the femme.<p>

However, he gets a slightly unexpected response as one of her dainty hands suddenly smacks across his face. Minerva raises her bright blue optics to the tall mech, her pale orange cheeks stained with light tears, "How _dare _you do this! You disappear without—without a _word_ or any kind of indication that you weren't _killed_ only days after my son's _father_ died, and now you're just suddenly… suddenly _here?_"

Devcon doesn't try to rub the sting away from his cheek as he holds his hands up to try to calm the femme down—it doesn't work, of course, "Mini, listen, I know I slagged up big time, but we really gotta keep moving—"

"And another thing!" Minerva advances on her brother-in-law, jabbing a finger against his chest and making him step backwards into an alleyway wall, "You _find_ my son out here, wandering around a _galaxy_ that's who-knows-how far away from Cybertron, and you _don't bring him back? _What in Primus's name is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Mini, Primus please, there's a lot going on that you're not filled in on, but it's really important that the kid finishes what he started out here, or at least help me to a point where I can take over! You don't realize how _big _this picture is—"

Another slap shuts him up as Minerva grinds her teeth in fury, "_I _don't realize what the big picture is, Devcon? The big picture, you fragger, is my _son!_ I just want him safe and home, is that so much to _ask_ for?" She shakes her helm in disgust, "And is it so far-fetched to think that his _uncle_ would want the same?"

Devcon opens his mouth before rubbing his forehead, still backed up against the wall in more ways than one.

Unable to handle the tension much longer, Siren steps up (and looks up) to Minerva, "Miss Minerva, what we're doing is—"

He's hardly able to get in a word before he's cut off as Minerva looks down at him, "Siren, don't even try to start, honey. You're in just as much trouble, and this all stops now." Reaching out, she takes a hold of the younger bot's wrist, and receives no resistance. Turning, she returns her attention to Devcon, "Devcon, you're going to take me to my son, and we're going to go back to Cybertron."

"Yer all goin' no wheres. Hands up high in the skies."

All four bots quickly look to the source of the unfamiliar voice, and are met by the sight of a large, grungy looking organic alien—with a hefty gun. Devcon steps forward to make a move, but stops when he hears more alien thugs surround them.

Minerva holds Siren close, wrapping her arms around him and cradling his helm against her chest protectively, optics wide as she looks around at the unsightly creatures. Hosehead frowns sharply and darts his hand for one of his daggers before grunting as he's quickly subdued by a blunt strike to his stomach from the end of one of the aliens' blaster rifles.

"Hey—Hey, take it easy!" Devcon's words fall on uncaring ears as Hosehead is struck again in the helm, the red Colonist falling onto his knees in a daze. The thugs come in closer on their prey, one of them nudging Devcon with his rifle to shut him up. The mech's gold optics flare in anger as he looks to the smallest, skinniest thug, "Elizardo. Thought I'd never have to see your ugly mug again."

The head thug releases a hissing laugh between his sharpened teeth, a fork tongue sliding out the side of his mouth, "Devvvvconnnn… sssurprised to s-see you so welllll…" The alien chuckles, "N-Not very well for lonnnng…"

"Yawn. Oh, sorry, what? You take _sssssoooo_ long to _t-t-talk_, what was the point of this little reunion again?"

Minerva looks over to Devcon with angry optics, unable to believe the mech is actually coaxing the armed thug.

Said armed thug growls at the insult and steps forward quickly, kneeing Devcon in the gut—only to realize that Devcon is made of metal, and his knee is not, "Ghaaarr!" The serpentine organic holds his knee and hops for a moment before hissing furiously as Devcon releases a robust laugh in response, "Rrrgh yyyou'll not be laughinnng o-once you're taken to the _boss!"_

One of the other thugs cracks the back end of their gun across Devcon's cheek to silence his laughter, but it doesn't do much to shut him up entirely as he looks to the ring leader, "That old bucket of liver failure still kickin'? Frag, I was puttin' good money down on him dying of a fat-overload by now."

Elizardo releases an exasperated growl before pointing in the direction of the museum, "T-Taaaake them to the bosssss, we'll let _him_ d-decide their de-de-demise!"

Minerva shoots a sharp glare at one of the thugs as they try taking Siren away from her hold, the thug backing off a bit before nudging her to walk along with the other captives. She keeps Siren close, stroking his cheek to comfort him, "Don't worry, baby, everything's gonna be alright…"

Siren swallows lightly as he looks around at the thugs before looking to the museum up ahead—that's where Nightbeat is, he knows it. And if Nightbeat _is_ in there, and when Nightbeat _sees_ that he and the others are in trouble… A faint smile ghosts over his face, "I know it will…"

* * *

><p>"This place is a lot bigger than I remember… where do you think we should start looking?"<p>

I frown lightly as I take in the expansive interior of the museum, the ceiling high and domed, gathering at the center where two large oculus windows reside, though the glass seems to be tinted with dark stains; allowing little light to pass through and making it difficult to see. I retract my visor to let my light-sensitive optics make up for the dim lighting, unknowingly drawing a curious gaze from my companion.

"Oh…" Fera smirks, "Aren't you handsome."

I raise an optic ridge at her and blush faintly, smirking and shaking my helm.

"Why don't you show those pretty peepers more often? They look just like your uncle's."

"It's uh, a mix of my optics bein' real sensitive to light and also…"

"You're that shy?" She grins teasingly.

I scoff and smile, "Do I seem that shy?"

"Mm, I don't know, you were left sputtering for a few kliks after that little bird's peck I gave you."

"_Bird's peck?" _I chuckle quietly, "Felt to me like you were gonna suck my face off, sweetspark…"

A quiet giggle leaves her, "You're saying you didn't like it?"

"I'm saying I maybe didn't _mind_ it…" I smile more as she pushes my arm, but then we both pause as the sound of a large door opening in a far end of the museum sounds. We glance to each other before I go over to a large statue artifact, peeking around and watching for a moment. Looks like the coast is clear on this end, but now we know we're definitely not alone in here. You'd think they would turn on some lights or something, why keep it so dark? What's the point of keeping a museum if you can't see the pieces?

"We should keep moving, Nightbeat, this place is giving me the creeps…"

I glance over to Fera and nod, "Yeah, okay." As we continue walking along through the rows of ancient artifacts from alien origins I'm not at all familiar with (gee, imagine that; thank you Cybertronian 'cultural and planetary preservation' laws), I take out the red map sphere from my subspace compartment, "I guess look for something that resembles a telescope and looks like it could house something this size…"

The further we wander through the museum, the more on-edge I begin to grow. There's something weird about this place, it's making my plating itch. I can only see the silhouettes and faint shapes of most objects, and it seems like nothing is organized according to object type or theme. We could be stuck in here for days looking; surely my father left some kind of clue, _something_ to point us in the right direction…

_Truth is revealed in the smallest detail_.

That's what my father used to always say. Not sure if that's gonna help me out now. What else did he used to say?

_It's always right under your left eye._

Never really understood what he meant by that one. Maybe I should try breaking it down… what's so special about the left optic? Well, for most bots their right optic is predominate in their vision. What else. It's clearly a saying that would suggest that when you're looking for something, it's right in front of your face.

Wait… Why did he always use the word _eye_ instead of _optic_?

Eye… The large, circular windows in the ceiling of this museum, the architectural term for them is _oculus_, which is an old word for _eye_... Two oculi, two eyes. Which means… there's a left eye in the ceiling, and something directly in front of it—or below it, technically speaking.

"Fera… I think I might know where my dad hid the map reader."

Fera follows my line of sight to the oculi openings in the dome of the ceiling, "Devcon really wasn't joking when he said your father would have hidden it in plain sight…"

Taking her hand, I quickly begin making my way through the cluttered museum, squinting to see through the eerie darkness, some of the artifacts looking like boogie monsters bent on attacking. Coming up behind an oversized vase of some kind, however, we both freeze when we find a gathering of beings to be just a few paces ahead in a cleared area of floor, a rich-looking desk in the center with a large body sitting behind it. Organics, and ugly ones at that. They're mumbling something to one another, and it looks like the big one behind the desk could be the _mob boss_ that Devcon had mentioned earlier. My attention is then drawn over to a group of arriving organics as the one in the lead starts talking.

"We'vvvve brought you something very sp-sp-special, bosssss… You won't believe what we've ffffound."

The larger, ugliest creature behind the desk clears his voice—almost makes me purge, gotta admit—before speaking in a grunty, clogged voice, "Elizardo, this had better be good, I was in the middle of something very important…"

Sounds like the bag of flab is choking on his own throat when he talks. _Yuck._

'Elizardo' nods quickly and rubs his long, clammy hands together, "Yess y-yessss, mosssst de-definitely…"

The apparent boss-man rolls his eyes at his subordinate's speech impediments before gesturing with his hand for the sniveling thug to come forward with whatever it is he's found.

I feel my spark skip a beat, my audios go silent, and the world seems to stop.

I watch as the thugs step aside to reveal four bots—Devcon, Hosehead, Siren…

_And Mom…?_


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: Sorry for the late post, my brain's hardly been working today, took longer to write this than it should've! XD;

Thank you SezWho for your comment, I'm glad you enjoyed the little dose of Grim and Prowl, and Minerva will probably baby Siren for the rest of his life, despite whatever he goes through XD

Beautiful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Way to go, Devcon.<p>

You're a real gem, y'know that?

First you trick your nephew into thinking you're his dead daddy, then you twist up his spark strings some more until he agrees to help you save the home planet that you abandoned after said daddy's death. Oh yeah, and you left the kid and his mother there, too.

Anyways, so now you've got both your sister-in-law and your nephew all in the same place—same planet, at least, cuz that's right—you lost track of your little nephew. And while it _would_ be nice to sit down and have a long, spark-felt chat with your sis, she's currently too busy being held up at gunpoint by some ugly-aft thugs; one of which you decided to torment, cuz that's just what you do to lesser creatures that are so stupid they _deserve_ to be kicked around.

Yeah, it's lookin' like a real bright future for you and your brother's family, Devcon. Real peachy.

Devcon shakes his helm as he mentally beats himself around inside it, glancing over to Minerva and the two young mechs he found Nightbeat with. They were counting on him. Maybe he can prove that they still can, but no bot should start holding their breath anytime soon…

The smallest bot with the pale blue face—Siren, that's the kid's name, Nightbeat's best friend—suddenly lets out a gasp, his large, red optics directed upwards towards something in the dark museum. Following the kid's line of sight, Devcon frowns sharply as his optics adjust to the darkness to reveal an intricate display of dissected, alien bots; set up as if they're some of gory artwork.

That's right. The 'boss' has a fascination with mechanical types.

Elizardo and the other thugs guarding the four Cybertronians let out hissing cackles at the youngling's horrified expression, "Like what you ssssseee? The bosss is always l-l-looking for new additions for his c-c-collection…"

Hosehead grits his teeth and takes a quick step towards the organic thug, "Your ugly _hide _would look real good pinned up with _my_ collection."

The head thug is startled and flinches away from the red Colonist before growling and shoves him back towards the other Cybertronians, "We'll ssssee real soon whose hide g-gets pinned!"

"That will be enough, Elizardo."

All four bots turn their optics to the source of the deep, stifled voice as it continues on, "Devcon… Why am I not surprised? Though, I hadn't expected you to return on such short notice…"

Devcon frowns as the mob boss of Pz-Zazz—known as "The Fat Man"—waddles out from behind his desk. The midnight blue mech scoffs angrily, "Yeah, where are my manners? Next time I'll call ahead of time to avoid barging in on ya."

The Fat Man releases a gurgling, wheezy sound that could only be translated as chuckling, migrating his layered bulk over to inspect the Cybertronians more closely, "You're still on with that dry wit, are you? It always did serve to _vex _me, though I can't suspect it could ever do much more to help you." The large, organic alien shifts his attention from Devcon and looks to the other three bots, his tiny, beady eyes stopping on Hosehead, "Well, you're certainly something out of the ordinary. Your armor is unlike anything I've seen, just where are you from?"

Hosehead narrows his optics behind his turquoise visor, opting to remain silent.

The Fat Man chuckles again, "Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to stir up my own 'origin tale' for your display piece when my guests ask about it."

"None of us are gonna be part of your collection, Fat Man." Devcon growls through his teeth.

"Oh, no? I find it rather amusing that you honestly believe you have a say in the matter. You've caused me a hefty sum of trouble in the past, you know, one instance of which still upsets me to this day."

"Ya gonna tell me what that'd be or are we gonna play a guessing game?"

The Fat Man shakes his head as much as his thick, bulging neck will allow, "You don't let up, do you? If you must know, the greatest grudge I hold against you, dear Detective, is for the day you took my dearest asset from me." He pauses and looks to Devcon, "Is she still with you? What a poor, lost soul she was. She was nearly dead when I found her, you know. _Starved and cold._ A waste of flesh, most would have said. But I saw her for what she was—_I saw_ the cleverness in her eyes. She was an exquisite spy, and a shameless predator… I've not found a replacement for her yet."

Devcon's jaw tightens, "She's a different girl these days."

A sickening smile stretches across the mole-like boss's oily mug, "Girls like her are _incapable_ of change, Detective…"

* * *

><p>Fera was a spy? For a dirty mob boss that collects <em>corpses<em> of Cybertronian look-alikes?

I turn my helm a little to glance to the woman, her emerald eyes locked on the scene before us, focused on the Fat Man and Devcon. After a moment, she finally looks to me, "I've got a plan. But you're going to have to trust me."

That certainly is the issue of the day, isn't it, Fera…

I nod a little, "What's the plan?"

"You need to find that map reader so we can get out of here fast when the time comes. I'll create a diversion to buy some time for Devcon and the others."

"Then what? How do we get those heavies outta the picture?"

"Improvise. Don't worry, I'm good at it." Without letting me respond, she suddenly steps out from behind the cover we hunkered down behind, and boldly walks straight over into the lion's den.

What is she _thinking?_ She's gonna get herself—and maybe even the others—killed!

I watch in shock as the Fat Man turns his attention over to the woman, his gurgling voice rising a few octaves, "Fera? Is that you?"

Fera smirks coolly, "In the flesh, Antony."

That fatso's name is _Antony?_ Sounds way too romantic for a piece of flab like him.

'Antony' looks like he's just seen a ghost as he gestures his hands around in the air, as if trying to catch the words to say next, "You're here, you've returned to Pz-Zazz… Why?"

"I decided that life out there in the _great blue yonder_ wasn't for me, Antony. I missed having _fun_ like I used to, the kind of fun you sent me out to do." She walks over to Devcon and cups his chin, pouting in mock sadness, "Sorry, lovely, you just don't know how to keep a girl satisfied."

Devcon stares at the woman, optic ridges furrowed in confusion, "Fera, what are you _doing?_"

The woman smiles, her eyes dangerously narrow as she looks over to the mob boss again, "Do you like them? I found them during my travels, and I thought you would accept them as a token of how _sorry_ I am for leaving the way I did."

Antony blinks, "_You_ brought these robots here?"

"Well of course, darling. How else do you think they all wound up in the same place? You know how rare they are in this quadrant of the galaxy…"

Elizardo hisses jealously as Fera snatches the glory for the victims _he_ caught, "But Bossss! _I _am the one who c-c-captured them! Shhhheee's lying!"

The Fat Man called Antony frowns faintly, "Be quiet, Elizardo. Although…" he looks to Fera, "It is indeed quite odd that you arrive _separately_ from your gifts, why didn't you bring them to me yourself?"

"I would have, if your little_ pet_ here hadn't ambushed me."

Elizardo jolts at the accusation, yellow eyes bulging, "Whhhat? No, she liieesssss!"

"Enough, Elizardo! You will hold your tongue or I'll cut it out and hold onto it myself!" He then smiles and reaches a hand out towards the woman, "Seeing you again is enough for me to forgive the debt that you owe me, along with your sudden leave of absence from my side. Come, let us talk of your future…"

Fera smiles and steps forward, lifting her hand and setting it into the rough one of the crime boss, but blinks as it suddenly grips tightly to hers, "Antony—?"

The Fat Man squints his beady eyes at Fera, lips peeling back in a frown, revealing tiny, sharp teeth, "And I expect to see much more of you here in the museum, as you'll be joining your friends as new display pieces. You're such a rare flower, Fera, you _belong_ in my museum—and I've always wanted to learn what it is that makes you _tick_."

"Boss! There's another one in here!"

Frag! I look over to the thug that's just announced my presence before diving for cover as he sprays a barrage of misaimed bullets, flinching as a few bounce off my armor plating. Hf, primitives, they still shoot _metal_ from their guns.

Scrambling onto my peds, I make a dash to the dim spotlight shining down from the left oculus window in the ceiling, my sights aimed on a tall, telescope-like object. That's it!

The Fat Man releases a wet hiss from his lard-clogged throat, digging his claw-like fingers into Fera's arm, "You deceive me again, Fatima! Thought that you could bring a little spy of your own and get away with it?"

Devcon looks around to the distracted guards, seeing his opportunity and takes it as he charges at two of the guards, tackling them over. Hosehead and Minerva are quick to catch on, rushing at the rest of their captors. Siren stands petrified for a moment as he freezes before looking over as a thug is about to attack Minerva from behind. Rotating the sonic pistols on the sides of his helm, he blasts the thug's ears bloody with a high pitch shrill, averting the attack.

Avoiding several more thugs as they start to come out of the woodwork, I run up to the telescope-shaped reader, my sparkbeat jumping as I find a holding place that looks like it would be a perfect fit for my red sphere map. Just as I grab a hold of it, however, a set of large, squishy arms suddenly wrap around my waist and tug me off the ground. I tighten my hands on the telescope, dragging it along as the thug carries me roughly to the center of the museum where the chaos has been set off.

"Cease your attempts of escape or this one loses his head!" The Fat Man's claws are dug deep enough into Fera's arm to break her skin, red liquid running from the wounds in small lines, his eyes wide as he points to me and my captor.

My family and friends freeze in their attack, looking over. I can feel a rush of energon go through my lines as my mother's optics widen in fear, and I can feel her anxiety from across the room, her hands lifted a little as if to reach out and grab me despite the distance between us.

Just as the room begins to go still again, I unconsciously drop the red sphere in my hand down into the telescope reader—setting off a chain reaction.

A bright light abruptly explodes from the sphere, and almost instantaneously, all the organic thugs—the Fat Man included—release shrieking cries of agony as they practically claw at their eyes. Suddenly, it makes sense—they keep this museum dark because their eyes are too sensitive to the light! On a dim world like Pz-Zazz, they've probably never even seen pure sunlight!

I'm dropped from my captor's hold, catching myself on my peds before I look to my crew as they knock over their petrified guards.

"Nightbeat!"

My mom's voice flushes out the rest of the white static from my audios, but before I can even take my first step towards her, my chassis suddenly goes numb. In the next klik, my vision goes solid red, as if the liquid running from Fera's arm has filled the entire museum—what's happening?

* * *

><p>Minerva's optics flare as she sees a bright, thin beam of red light suddenly shoot from the red sphere in the map reader, the beam traveling directly to Nightbeat's forehead and seeming to demobilize him. She can't hold back a scream of terror as she runs to her child, catching him as his chassis goes limp, the beam somehow following his forehead as it continues to strike its mark right between his optics. Even as she puts her hand between the sphere and her son's forehead, the beam somehow passes through it and continues to its target.<p>

Devcon stomps down another squealing thug before jolting at the femme's cry and looks over, "Minerva!" Running over, he quickly takes Nightbeat into his arms before pulling the distraught femme up by her arm, "We gotta blow this joint, these aren't the only bruisers this fragger has on his team, more will come!"

Hosehead pries his stolen dagger from Elizardo's hand as the serpentine alien cringes from the blinding light, kicking the alien away. He watches as Devcon gathers up Minerva and Nightbeat, but then turns his helm quickly as he hears Fera scream angrily.

"Let me go! Pig!" Fera digs her high heels into the ground as she's roughly pulled at by her bleeding arm, the Fat Man wheezing and hissing out curses as he refuses to let go of his chance at revenge against the woman.

Both Hosehead and Fera are surprised, however, as Siren suddenly swings his leg up, kicking the overweight mob boss square in the chin, sending some teeth flying and successfully rendering him unconscious. Fera looks down at the small bot, taking his hand to guide him away as the youngling seems too dazed to move himself after inflicting the violent action. As he's pulled towards the museum entrance, however, he reaches out and plucks the map sphere from the telescope-like reader, the glass object strangely losing its red color, now deep ebony.

Devcon leads the other bots out of the museum as the stunned aliens start to gather themselves, carrying Nightbeat in his arms as he shouts back to his followers, "C'mon, we gotta get to the upper district to reach the ship!"

"Devcon, what's _happening_ to him?" Minerva keeps up alongside her brother-in-law, optics focused on her seemingly paralyzed child.

Devcon shakes his helm, clenching his teeth, "I don't know, Mini, it looks like the sphere map zapped him in the head, maybe it was some kind of data transfer?"

"The map is black now, like it's empty or something…" Siren quietly notes.

Glancing down to his nephew as the group continues along, Devcon silently hopes that whatever happened back there in the museum was _supposed _to…

* * *

><p>I feel weightless. Careless. The warm red fills my vision and eases my strained circuitry.<p>

_Nightbeat. If you've come this far, then you've done your father proud. But then, I've always been proud of you anyways, son…_

Where did that voice just come from? Dad?

It's in my processor… some kind of recording—from the map?

I can feel myself fall into a dream-like trance, deep in the roots of my memory banks where new data has recently been downloaded… information that I've never seen before, coordinates—it's gotta be from the map! There's something else, though, a video file…

_I hope that you won't even need to ever see this, son, but if you are watching it, then that probably means that hard times have fallen on you and your mother, and Cybertron will be next…_


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: I hope everyone's had a good week, get some rest this weekend! Thank ya SezWho and Blackpanther for your reviews, I'm glad I'm accomplishing my aim to entertain! X)

Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>…<em>Before you were born, I worked with your uncle, Devcon, and an old friend as a bounty hunter. <em>

'Old friend', huh… hard to tell.

_When I met your mother, though, I knew I'd have to give up the old business, find somethin' new to support the two of us with. Next thing I knew, I was supporting three._

The static-infused tone of my father's voice recording laughs, the glitching video of him smiling brightly. I feel my spark get tight.

_I wish I could've been around more, Beatie. My work took me away from you more often than I should've allowed… but I was doing my best, son._

No, Dad, no… don't apologize for anything, you were the best…

_You've always been my world, Beat, even before I knew you, you were the thing that kept me going. Even before you were born… you were always the little voice in the back of my head. You must've been the clever voice, cuz look at how smart you are, 'n you're only five… _

Five… that's how old I was when it happened, when he was killed.

_Mm, I guess you'll be older when you watch this. Maybe twenty? Thirty?_

A grin passes over his faceplates, and I feel myself smirk.

_Nah, knowing you… you're probably still just a kid. No, lemme correct that—legally, you're probably still a kid. But you're probably all grown up, Beatie… you were always grown up. You always took care of Mom when I was away… I can never thank you enough for bein' the little big mech that you were for her, son. _

It was pretty hard, Dad. She cried a lot, in the beginning, after you were gone. I thought she was gonna die, too. But I looked after her for you…

_Your mother's always been a little spitfire herself, tough as nails… Hn, must be where you get it from. You still workin' on that right hook a' yours? I remember when you almost broke Dev's hand, when he thought it'd be cute to tease his little nephew and catch your punch with it… He later said he was just joking when he said you almost broke it, but we all knew he was hurting—both in his hand and in his ego._

Another laugh leaves him, and I hear the sound come from myself, too. Yeah, Dad, I use my right hook all the time. Lots of slaggers out there who need to learn some manners, and I'm all too willing to oblige.

_I hope you don't continue on with your biting phase, though. Honest, I've never seen a kid bite so many hands, but then I guess those hands shouldn't be getting' close enough to be in your range, anyways... _

Oops. Yeah, I do still bite a lot, and I think I've passed it on to Siren. What else am I supposed to do to a bot that's ten times my size and a million times stronger? They seem to really squirm when they're bit, so I figure it's a good technique to stick with…

_Anyways… I guess it's time to tell you the truth. _

I feel my whole chassis pause, my father's golden optics staring straight at me. The truth…? About why he was killed? What?

* * *

><p>"Is he gonna be okay, Miss Minerva?"<p>

Minerva looks down at the pale blue bot sitting beside her, and strokes his helm, "Yes, sweetie, he's going to be fine… He'll wake up soon, don't worry yourself." She turns her optics back to her unconscious son, watching as every now and then, it looks as though his mouth is moving. What's going on in that processor? What does he see? What did his father put in that data sphere?

"Your son is a good mech."

Minerva perks up at the voice and turns her helm, looking over to the mysterious, red mech she found Devcon and Siren with. She smiles faintly and nods, "Yes, I know…"

Hosehead leans back against the wall of the medical infirmary aboard the _Monacus_, "What he's doing out here is bigger than any of us… it could affect more than this quadrant, but your home planet, as well."

Minerva stares at the red-clad Colonist for a moment, "It isn't his responsibility to save the world… and it's my responsibility to save him."

"You think you're saving him?" Hosehead keeps his voice calm and hushed as he speaks, "You won't be able to do that once your home world is struck by whatever it is that's coming… You face multiple threats, all after the same thing."

Siren clears his throat nervously and pipes in, "Maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now…"

Hosehead turns his turquoise visor to the smaller mech, "There won't be time to talk about it later, Siren. We're running out time to do anything if we don't finish this." He returns his gaze to Minerva, "We've all put our lives on the line for this, and pretty soon none of it will matter if we don't act now."

Minerva shakes her helm and frowns lightly, "Do you even know what it is you're out here looking for? Look at you—you're all _children_, this is not the way you should be living, no bot is asking this of you…"

Hosehead frowns deeply, "I wasn't given much of a choice when I was thrown into this 'way of living'. No bot's asking for this to be done because they don't even know what's coming—just look at you. You're oblivious to the situation, and it's gonna cost us all!"

Siren stands up from his seat beside Minerva, "Stop it! Don't yell at her or I'll—I'll—"

"Hey hey, woah, what's all the huffin' and puffin' about in here?" Devcon pokes his helm in through the doorway before stepping in, looking between the two smaller bots, "Listen, boys, we can't force Mini to change her mind, Nightbeat is _her_ son, we gotta go by her wishes…"

Hosehead shakes his helm, "We're wasting _time_ doing this, Devcon! The Shi-Lai could be preparing an attack on your world this very moment, and who knows what your _Decepticons _are even up to!"

"I know, kid, I know…" Devcon releases a heavy vent of air, patting Hosehead's shoulder, "But listen, once we get Mini 'n her boys back to Cybertron, we'll finish what you three started, alright?"

"Without Nightbeat, _how_ can we? The sphere map is _gone_, it's useless! Without it, we're flying blind!"

Siren rubs his arm and looks to the two mechs, "If he wakes up soon, he could probably tell you the coordinates or whatever else was in the map, don't you think?"

"If it's even that simple, you mean." Hosehead scoffs, "His father seemed quite fond of riddles, who knows if whatever was stored in that map is even intelligible!"

Devcon raises his hands a bit in an attempt to quell the Colonist's fiery temper, "Hey, we won't know nothin' until the kid wakes up, so let's just stay calm until—"

All four bots suddenly jolt as the unconscious mech in question gasps and sits up on the medical slab he was placed on, his golden-orange visor flaring on.

"Nightbeat!" Siren is the first to react as he skids to his friend's side, holding his arm to keep him steady, "What happened? What'd the map sphere _do_ to you?"

Nightbeat's visor fluctuates in brightness for a moment before he looks to Siren, "Uh... it…"

"Take it easy, kid, just get yerself gathered first…" Devcon walks over and stands behind Siren, reaching his hand over and patting his nephew on the back.

"I saw my dad…" Nightbeat's voice goes quiet, concentrating on sifting through his thoughts, "He told me… what it is we're looking for, and why it's gonna save Cybertron."

"Devcon!" Fera's voice suddenly crackles on over the intercom speakers throughout the ship.

Devcon's optics are wide in anticipation towards Nightbeat's words, but quickly averts his attention to his partner's frantic tone, "Fera, what's going on?"

"I don't know how—but Lockdown's ship is inbound, it's headed straight for us!"

Siren's optics flare, "What? But—But I thought he didn't have his ship!"

Devcon curses under his breath, "Put up the defense systems, Fera, get ready to fight back!"

Minerva shifts and sits beside her son on the medical slab, putting her arms around him protectively, "Devcon, can't we outrun him? We shouldn't fight if we don't have to!"

"Sorry, babe, but his ship's a lot faster than this one." Just as Devcon finishes his words, the lights aboard the _Monacus_ suddenly flicker as the ship shakes, all the occupants within who are standing getting knocked onto their afts. Devcon growls and looks up, "Fera—what just happened? Were we hit?"

"Yeah, but I got the shield barriers up just in time, nothing damaged! Would you mind getting your tin _aft_ up here in the cockpit already? I think he's gonna hit us again!"

"Yeah, I'm on my way, Fera! Keep it steady, and don't return fire until I get there!" Scraping himself up onto his peds, Devcon darts out of the medical room and down the hall towards the command section of the ship.

Nightbeat watches his uncle go before blinking and looks up at the femme who's currently cradling him like a baby, "Mom?"

* * *

><p>"Grimlock! Why, in the name of <em>Primus<em> did you just _fire at them?!_"

Grimlock shoves the frantic Praxian away from trying to take over the navigation controls, "Just gettin' their attention. Didn't damage their ship, just shook 'em up."

"Have you forgotten _whose _ship this is? They're going to think that _we _are Lockdown, and are probably going to return fire now!" Prowl's door panels flicker and twitch sporadically on his back, a sure sign of his stress and anxiety level.

"Could have some fun, could send a few blows back and forth with them." Snarl comments with a grunt as he watches his leader navigate.

Prowl shoots a look of angry shock at the other Dinobot before shaking his helm, "You're all insane! Open up a com station, we need to get in touch with them so they don't blow us into oblivion!"

Slag growls in the base of his vocalizer, "Him Praxian has squeaky voice, Grimlock. Why you Grimlock bring squeaky Praxian along? Could have just left him in space. No squeaky can be heard in space."

Said Praxian blinks and looks at the third Dinobot, starting to get a little nervous about being in a ship with a set of Dinobots who clearly do not wish to remain tolerant of him for much longer.

Grimlock shrugs, "Praxian an' me got a deal."

Prowl rolls his optics and sighs. Simple, yet effective, Grimlock. Hopefully it will keep the other two Dinobots at bay.

"Maybe we just put him Praxian in airlock room, then. To stop the squeaky sound coming from him."

Grimlock chuckles darkly and glances to Snarl, "Maybe."

Primus, why does Prowl have this kind of luck?

* * *

><p>"Has he tried opening a com channel with us yet?"<p>

Fera glances to Devcon as the mech enters the cockpit, and shifts from the pilot to the co-pilot seat, "No, and… there's something peculiar about the way he's handling his ship, Devcon…"

"What do you mean?"

The woman squints her emerald eyes, "It looks like he doesn't know _how_ to handle his ship. Take that asteroid he just bounced off of, for instance…" She raises an eyebrow and looks to her partner, "Something is up. I don't think it's Lockdown in there…"

"Then who the frag do you think is—?" Before Devcon can finish his inquiry, the main communications screen blinks on, and the bounty hunter's jaw drops, "Oh, _Pit_, no…"

Grimlock's shiny visage lights up at the sight of the pilot on the other end of the com station, "Devcon! Still alive, but still ugly!"

Fera quickly holds her hand over her mouth as she attempts to hide an uncontrollable grin, glancing over to her partner a little, "Ah… _friend_ of yours, Dev?"

Devcon pouts angrily at the screen and waves his hands in the air, gesturing wildly, "The frag you _shootin'_ at me for, ya dumb, steamin' pile a' Dino slag!"

"No doorbell, had to knock."

Devcon rubs his face roughly, trying to make his head stop hurting, "How the Pit did you get Lockdown's ship? Mini told us you all found him floatin' in space, not in his ship!"

Grimlock shrugs, "Got a few friends who commandeered it from him, hitched a ride."

A white helm with a red chevron abruptly pushes itself in front of Grimlock's face in the communications screen, a younger voice sounding, "Did you say you've spoken with Minerva? Is she there with you now? What about Nightbeat and Siren?"

Devcon perks at the new face, and snarls as he recognizes the squeaky-clean look of an Enforcer, "Who the scrap are you? You a cop? Cuz yer _way_ outta yer jurisdiction, y'know, so if you're thinkin' of arresting me or some dumb—"

"Let's skip the formalities, and have you answer my question instead." The Praxian-looking mech's cold tone interrupts.

Already, Devcon can tell that he's not gonna like this kid, whoever he is. He tilts his helm and narrows his golden optics, "Yeah, Mini 'n the boys are with me, and they're just fine where they are."

**"Prowl! Hi!"**

Everyone in the cockpit of both the _Monacus_ as well as Lockdown's ship nearly fly back in their seats at the sudden shout. The Praxian's face returns to the communications screen a moment later, "Siren?"

Siren grins happily and waves spastically at the screen, standing between Devcon and Fera's seats, **"Yeah, hi!"**

Devcon rubs his audios and glances over to see Fera nearly chocking as she tries to conceal her laughter before looking down at Siren, "Uh, _kid?_ Do ya _mind?_"

The pale blue bot doesn't seem to hear Devcon as he remains focused on the communications screen, "Hey, and Grimlock, too! And—hey, that's the Dinobot that almost _ate _me back on that moon we crashed onto!"

Slag waves at the screen to greet the little bot that he had, in fact, come close to consuming, "Kid still alive, me Slag impressed."

The Praxian—who Devcon now knows as 'Prowl'—rubs his face before looking to the screen, "Siren, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Siren shakes his helm, "I got my hand cut off earlier, but I got a new one! See?"

Prowl blinks as he stares at the discolored appendage that the young Capri native holds up to show him, a quiet rage building up in his systems as he looks to Devcon, "Is that so…"

Devcon pouts, "Hey, oi, we _found_ him like that, and it was _me_ who—"

Fera clears her throat bluntly and shoots a look at Devcon.

The midnight blue mech trips up on his words a bit, "Er, it was _Fera_ here who set him up with a new hand! Without us, these kids wouldn't have lasted!"

Prowl narrows his cold optics, "A comforting thought. Now, then—we're going to board your ship, and we'll be taking Minerva and the boys back to Cybertron."

Devcon growls quietly, "What, you think you're just gonna take over the show here? _I'm_ taking them back to Cybertron, so you can go read yer goody-two-peds cop manual or somethin'."

The Praxian blinks, "Excuse me? I—"

"You're excused." Devcon crosses his arms.

"Me Slag say we forget kids, go find Decepticons to eat!"

"Me Snarl want to go find other Dinobots, and eat Decepticons!"

Prowl's door panels arch on his back as he looks back at his apparent companions, "Well _me Prowl_ says to be quiet and sit down!"

The two Dinobots being addressed pause and stare down at the small Praxian for a tense moment. The cockpit aboard the _Monacus_ goes silent as well, Devcon grinning in hopes of seeing this stuck-up brat get his aft handed to him.

The moment is lost, however, as Grimlock bursts into a jolly cackle.

Devcon sighs and leans back in his seat, glancing to Fera before looking to the screen, "Tell ya what, Praxian… you can board my ship, and we'll have a talk with Mini, let her decide. Cuz, uh, no offense, Grimmy, but I don't know that she'll want to fly _Dinobot Airways_ all the way home."

Prowl scoffs and shakes his helm lightly, "Very well."

* * *

><p>"I have to do this, Mom…"<p>

Mom shakes her helm and holds my shoulder, turning up my chin so I'll look her in the optics, my visor retracted, "No, baby, you _don't…_"

This is frustrating. It's like she can't contemplate how large this is, what could happen if nothing's done, "Mom, I don't think you get it—_Cybertron _is at stake here, the Decepticons—"

"Cybertron can take care of itself, Beatie. It's my job to take care of _you_. We're going home, and things are gonna go back to how they were, okay?"

I stare at her for a moment, "You can't honestly believe that's possible, Mom…"

She sighs and looks away for a moment, "…Just like your father." Her blue optics return to meet my golden ones, "I can't let you do this. I'm your mother, Nightbeat, I can't let you put yourself in danger like this!"

"But, Mom…"

"Beatie, no…"

"But… Dad told me to."


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: What a week, seems like I've hardly had the time to sit down and even think XD; This week's chapter is thus a bit on the short side, but I tried cramming plenty of food for thought to make up for that. I hope you've all been enjoying the ride, we're getting pretty close to the grand finale! Thank you SezWho and Meg for your reviews, they are my writer's life force XD

To all my wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"You're sure you won't come with us, Hosehead?"<p>

The red-clad Colonist finally turns his helm to look at me, a sullen expression on his face, his arms crossed in a guarded posture. He's never gonna forgive me for this, I can see it in the way he's looking at me. He shakes his helm, "Why bother, Cybertron's not gonna be around for much longer as it is."

I release a heavy vent of air and bite my lip. I'm breaking my promise to him, leaving like this. He probably thinks I'm a coward, following Mommy home with my tail between my legs. That's what he thinks. But what choice do I have? She literally has me by the arm, despite how many times I've tried pulling it away.

Siren, on the other hand, seems to have quietly accepted his fate of being returned to our home planet, his optics dim as he stands on the other side of my mother, his wrist encircled by her hand. I look up at Mom and Devcon, not really caring to listen to their parting words as we all stand on the enclosed boarding bridge connecting the _Monacus_ to Lockdown's hijacked ship. I can see Prowl and some Dinobots waiting at the other end of the bridge, the Praxian's ice optics boring a hole into my helm. Makes it hard to tell if he's gonna hug me or smack me upside the helm once we get over there.

"Well… This is it, then." Mom looks from Devcon to Hosehead, "It would be no trouble at all, dear, you're more than welcome to join us…" After getting a blank stare from the Colonist, she sighs and turns, tugging me and Siren along, "Alright, boys, let's go…"

As we walk along the bridge towards the hull entrance to Lockdown's commandeered ship, a cold knot starts to harden in my tanks, prickling along the back of my neck as my spark beats deeply. We've come so far, we're so close to finding the end of this all, to unlocking the truth and finishing what my father left to me… all for naught?

Just as we step over the threshold connecting the two bridges linking the ships together, however, my senses are shot as a chain of events unroll faster than I can react. A strong arm suddenly wraps around my waist and yanks me away from my mother's hold, and I can hear Siren release a startled yelp as he's likewise plucked away. My mother turns around with stunned optics and a mouth that's surely opening that widely to shout something nasty just before a blaster door slams shut over the bridges' threshold in front of her, thus separating us from her in the two linked bridges.

Turning my helm, I can't be too surprised to see Devcon as the owner of the arms that snatched us away, "What are you doing?!" As if I really need to ask.

"You know you were gonna do it yourself, kid, I'm just takin' on your mother's scorn for ya!" Turning, Devcon quickly runs us back through the hull entrance of his ship and shouts to an intercom speaker, "Alright, Fera, I got 'em! Bring in the boarding bridge and let's get the frag outta here!"

"On it, Devcon." Fera's voice is way too calm.

"Are we—Are we gonna finish the mission?" Siren's optics are larger than half his face in a look of shock, clearly still trying to process what just happened. Did they just _boot_ Minerva off onto Prowl's ship and trick her?

"Looks like it, Si…" I puff as I'm set abruptly onto my peds, watching Devcon run up the hall towards the cockpit to assist Fera in our getaway. Looking to Siren, I lightly smack at the kid's cheeks to get him out of his dazed funk before putting my hand on his shoulder, "We continue on how we were going, Siren, we're doing the right thing…"

I hope. Mom's gonna kill me—once she's done with _Uncle Devcon_, of course.

Hosehead walks over to us, and if I'm not mistaken, he's trying to hide a smirk, "Good to hear it, _Detective._"

A tiny voice pipes up from Siren, "I'm gonna be grounded forever."

Both Hosehead and I pause and look at him with deadpan faces, and I can feel my optic ridge twitch.

* * *

><p>Up in the cockpit, Devcon quickly straps himself down before taking the main controls, "Alright, let's put as much space between our ship and my sister-in-law's frown as possible." Flicking several switches, the powerful engines of the <em>Monacus<em> rumble into life.

"I thought you said we couldn't outrun Lockdown's ship, that it's too fast…" Fera frowns lightly, her nerves getting the better of her as she stands behind Devcon's seat with her hands on the backrest, looking out the expansive windshield of the cockpit to the other ship.

Devcon chuckles, "You said it yourself, Fera. From the way they 'navigate' that beast, they're clearly not Lockdown, nor can they fly it like he can. I don't think we'll be having much to worry about from them." With that, he pulls back a lever before launching the ship forward, the red ship of the other crew becoming a distant speck.

"What the _Pit_ just happened?" Prowl's face is pale as he quickly runs across the boarding bridge to Minerva, turning her around to face him to make sure she's alright. Upon seeing the look on her face, he wishes he hadn't.

"That _selfish fragger!_" Minerva clenches her fists tightly and shoves past Prowl, going quickly across the bridge and re-entering the ship. The Dinobots occupying the hallway leading to the navigation room flinch and hastily move out of the scorned femme's way, watching her go by as if they can see flames trailing her path. Entering the navigation room, Minerva approaches Grimlock as he sits in the pilot's seat, "What are you waiting for? Go after them!"

Grimlock scoffs and narrows his optics beneath his ruby visor, turning his helm to give the what-for to the small femme, but then hesitates upon seeing her own optics burning through his, "… Okay."

Starting up all the necessary components and controls, the Dinobot leader obeys and directs the ship along the trail of the retreated _Monacus_, moving along in a less-than-graceful fashion as he hardly knows how to navigate the ship.

* * *

><p>Things quiet down aboard the <em>Monacus<em> once the excitement of the chase is left far back in an asteroid field, our trail buried, our escape complete. I let out a long sigh as I settle down on a recharge slab in one of the habitation suites, sitting back against the wall, Siren asleep off to my side. The door to the suite draws my attention as it slides open, Hosehead walking in and sitting down on the slab across the room, his turquoise visor landing on me.

"What's on your mind, Hosehead?"

"You need to know about Fera."

I blink lightly. All this excitement, and I so easily forgot the little mystery patch surrounding the lady of the crew. Fera Fatima. I wonder if that's even her real name, it's a bit too catchy.

I shift and sit up straight, hanging my legs over the edge of the recharge slab and interlace my hands, "Alright… I'm listening."

"She's one of them, Nightbeat." A sharp frown etches itself across the Colonist's expression.

If he's gonna tell the whole story in crypt, this will take a while. I patiently take in a vent of air before asking, "One of who, Hosehead?"

"She is a Shi-Lai."

I pause. Fera's Shi-Lai? She's from the empire of aliens working with the Decepticons for whatever dark agreement they've set up? Surely Devcon knows this, he was out in the Beta-Tri Quadrant for who knows how long, surely he's _see _ the Shi-Lai before, surely he'd know that Fera was one…

I tilt my helm. It makes sense now. Forget the Shi-Lai's connections to the Decepticons, Hosehead probably couldn't care less about that. The Shi-Lai were the ones who destroyed his colony, took his people and forced them into slavery. No wonder he's been so bitter towards her. They took everything from him, and he's managed to wait so long and patiently to tell me about Fera. Gotta admit, I feel like a piece of slag right now.

"From what I've gathered about her, it sounds like she's an exile from her kind, Hosehead… Is there something you know about her that says otherwise?" I probably sound pretty insensitive, but I can't throw Fera under the bus just because of her species, despite what they've done to Hosehead.

A snarl rolls across his top lip as his optics narrow, "I don't know anything for certain, but I have a very strong theory, Nightbeat. She worked for that _mob boss_ back on Pz-Zazz, you remember that?"

"Yeah, 'Antonio', she called him… What about it? She was down on her luck, probably had no other options if she'd just been cast away from her kind…" Why am I defending her so much? Hosehead's a fellow Cybertronian (in the grander scale of things), shouldn't I hear him out without fighting him at every turn?

"Pz-Zazz is in Shi-Lai territory, Nightbeat."

That's interesting… however, "Why didn't we see any Shi-Lai, then? Don't you think they would've spotted our ship?"

"Pz-Zazz is a toxic planet, the Shi-Lai wouldn't want anything to do with it if it didn't serve as such a good nexus for their supply network. Not only that… but planets like Pz-Zazz are ideal places for surviving _Colonists_ like me to hide. Or at least, for a time they were. Our colonies used to span through that quadrant of space, but when the Shi-Lai took over, they did it fast. It was impossible to escape the quadrant unnoticed, so many had to hide on the planets located within that the Shi-Lai didn't seem interested in stationing bases on.

However, it didn't take long for the Shi-Lai to catch onto this, so they installed _spies._" He turns his optics to me, giving me a moment to figure it out for myself.

It would make sense. The Shi-Lai didn't want to waste the resources to put a base of operations on a planet like Pz-Zazz, but still needed a way of locating any escaped Colonists; not to mention, they'd probably want at least a few of their kind on a planet that served as a nexus point for supply shipments. Fera's so-called boss, the 'Fat Man' would make for a good cover for her, and there's the chance he was getting paid off by the Shi-Lai to keep hush-hush and maybe even assist them with their shipments; or, maybe he was oblivious. Fera _did_ try making up the story that she brought Devcon and the others to him as a peace offering, hinting that her previous work under the mob boss involved herding in stray bots…

"So you think she's a Shi-Lai spy… You think she was on Pz-Zazz, tracking down Colonist survivors and turning them over…"

"It would all add up, wouldn't it?"

It would. It really would. But then what could be her intentions now? Wouldn't Devcon have figured her out by now, being her partner for so long?

Before I'm given the time to think through the possibilities, my uncle peeks his helm into the room and looks to me, "Alright, kid. Time to tell us what that sphere map zapped into your processor. Ya got coordinates or somethin'?"

I squint lightly, unable to read the information the sphere map gave me directly. We'll have to do this the hard way, "Does this ship have a direct interface I can link up to?"

Devcon raises an optic ridge, "Yeah, but you're gonna have the headache of a lifetime."


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Woot for italics! Most of this chapter is indeed written in italics, as well as in the past tense, big flashback time! So apologies ahead of time for anyone whose eyes get burned out from all the _lovely font decisions._

Thank you SezWho for your comments, always, It's always a nice big tick to see them! (talking like mtmte Drift ignore me XD)

To my Fantastic Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"What do you think he's gonna see in there?"<p>

Devcon looks over to Siren, "I dunno, kid… I've never entered into the direct interface panel of this ship before—or any ship… He could be seeing the coordinates he's trying to download into the nav system…"

Siren looks down at Nightbeat's calm face, the back of the young detective's helm settled firmly against the lock panel of the ship's direct interface systems, "… Do you think he'll dream?"

* * *

><p>Memories that aren't mine begin to roll through my data disks as I sink into a deep blanket of darkness… I can feel the ship's circuitry buzzing in response to the map sphere's information as it's pulled from my processor, and I get the feeling that it knows how to read the blurry coordinates…<p>

Almost feels like the ship is alive, guiding me through its mainframe, coaxing what it needs from my databanks… But then, the memories begin to overcome the sensations from the ship, and my father's face is suddenly at the forefront of my thoughts… or, maybe they were _his_ thoughts, something he placed into the map sphere… something he wanted me to see…

_**Come alone.**_

_**Give us the cog, your family is safe.**_

_That's all that was on the letter. The letter that somehow made its way to his desk in the Enforcer Department. He doubts looking at the security feeds would reveal who the messenger was, they were too good for that kind of slip-up. _

_The message was simple enough. That's how these Gladiators were. They were brutally simple and to the point. _

_He would have to go alone. He was __**in**__ this alone. No bot believed his casework; the thought that the narcotics-pushing thugs known as the Circuits Gang of Sector Capri were connected with the underground Gladiators of Kaon? It was too far-fetched for his superiors to bite into. Or, maybe they just didn't want to take that big of a bite. _

_But he wasn't afraid. He'd taken the biggest bite a single mech could. He went straight to the spark of the Gladiators' expanding plans. Of __**Megatronus's**__ plans._

_He took their key to Iacon's front door, in the form of an oversized transformation cog. _

_However, he wasn't careful enough, wasn't fast enough. They found out who he was, thus who his family was. His son, his wife, his brother. But how? He took the cog years ago, took every precaution to obscure his identity…_

_It must've been an inside job… there's no other way of explaining it. _

_The dark midnight blue mech turned away quickly from his desk, moving through the empty, after-hours office of the Enforcer Department, holstering his gun. Turning a corner, however, he jolted as he collided with another mech, pushing him against the wall in response, "Who the Pit are you—?"_

_The young Praxian's optics flared in surprise as he looked up at the aged detective, "M-My name is Prowl, sir, I-I'm an intern, from the Academy…"_

_The detective stared down the young student for a moment before huffing and released him, "Primus, kid… it's past the curfew, what're you doing in here still?" He curiously eyed the stack of datapads the young mech was holding in his arms._

_Prowl's face paled a bit, "Yes, sir, I'm usually quite prudent in following the set curfew hours, but I… got a little lost in my work. I'm writing my thesis paper…"_

"_Your thesis… you hardly look old enough to be a Senior, kid…"_

"_I'm… a Freshman, actually… I like to work ahead, you see…" He hesitated for a moment, "I'm actually… basing it off your documented theories, sir, about the ties between Sector D-12's crime ring and Kaon's underground…"_

_The detective paused. So he had a fan? That was a first. _

_Reaching out, he patted the kid on the shoulder, "That, uh… That's nice, kid, good luck with gettin' a grade on that. And, uh, don't call it 'Sector D-12'. We call it Sector Capri around here. Sounds nicer, don't you think?" He then proceeded to quickly go past the Praxian, tossing a key back to him, "That's the key to my file cabinet, kid, it's all yours, I won't be needing it anymore; so go wild and make sure your aft-hole __**Dean,**__ Sentinel Major, gets a copy of your paper."_

_Prowl caught the key and looked down to it, optics widening. Was it even legal for him to be holding it? What did the Detective mean by all that…?_

_The Detective arrived at the marked location a short while later, pulling up to a functioning smelting factory in the heart of the industrial district of Lower Iacon. The ever-present sound of hissing gears churning chemicals and molten bit through the cold night air, yet it still seemed too quiet. Of course it was too quiet. They were expecting him._

_Or… maybe only one bot was expecting him. He was going to find out who it was, who the Gladiators' insider was, the one that sold him out when he thought he'd managed an untraceable escape with the t-cog all that time ago. _

_Going up a rickety stairwell, the Capri Detective kept his golden optics sharp, scanning the surroundings at every step of the way, untrusting of every and any hint of movement. Massive cranes shifted every so often, set on a constant pattern of movement, lifting large vats of molten and dumping them into the smelting pool in the center of the factory. His imagination was already working out all the ways to die in a smelting factory, a majority of the scenarios involving the star of the show—the smelting pool itself._

_He was ready to go. So long as his family would be safe. That's all any good father could want. _

_So, what's the game plan. He sure as Pit didn't have the transformation cog with him, he hid it a long time ago. Long ways away, too. Those stupid thugs, they had no idea just how far out of their grasp their prize was now. _

_They didn't know that he used to defy the Clampdown regulations, and would leave Cybertron's atmosphere on a daily basis with his brother and friend. He still had his connections, his moves._

_Hopefully his son would pick up those moves, too. Though, he almost hoped the kid would grow up to be a doctor instead, like his mother was aiming to be._

_He wished he'd given them both a longer hug that morning before he left for work. He wished he'd told Nightbeat his life story, told him how much wonder there is in the universe, told him what to be careful and wary of, told him to guard his spark… _

_He wished he'd remembered to say 'I love you' one more time to his kid. _

_Reaching a platform that ran across the upper decks of the factory, the Capri Detective took a moment to look around before pausing at the sound of light ped steps. Sharp, even, cold ped steps._

_Turning quickly, he drew his blaster and took aim, optics widening at the sight of the figure standing across from him on the high platform, "It was you…?"_

_A set of electric yellow optics sharpened with sadistic glee, a low chuckle leaving a cool smile, "What can I say, big guy? The Senate isn't gonna reform itself… and Megatronus knows just how to help them along. Besides… the look on your face? Worth every little bit of deceit." _

"_Barricade…" The Capri Detective couldn't shake off the shock, his own partner…? The kid had only just joined the Investigative Department an orbital cycle ago, graduated from the Iacon Enforcer Academy with flying colors… The Detective shook his helm, "This isn't you, kid, I told them you weren't ready for that undercover work in the Gladiator rings… they got into your head, this isn't—!"_

_Barricade let out a loud, hissing scoff as he rolled his optics dramatically, "Spare me, o Great Detective of Capri. And, y'know somethin'? I dunno why you let the others __**call**__ you that. 'The Capri Detective'? More like an insult than anything, honestly." _

_The Detective narrowed his optics and frowned sharply, tightening his grip on his blaster, "You miserable sonuvaglitch… Tell me why I shouldn't blow off your head right now…"_

_Another calm, sinister chuckle left the dark, young mech, "Because unlike you, I'm not an idiot. I didn't come alone. Right, Brawl?"_

_Before the Capri Detective could react, a set of heavy hands suddenly fell on his shoulders, the force almost enough to make his knees give out. One of the gritty servos moved quickly and grabbed onto his helm before slamming him face-down onto the guard rails of the platform, dazing him. As tightly as he tried to keep a hold of his blaster, it was a fruitless endeavor as the heavy hands attacking him from behind grabbed his wrist, crushing it until his weapon finally slipped free from his fingers, falling to the smelting pool below. _

_The Detective was thrown down onto his knees, energon gushing from his busted olfactory sensor, one of his golden optics cracked across the surface lens. The platform swayed from the cables that suspended it from the ceiling as slow, heavy ped steps made their way around the downed Enforcer, until a large form was revealed from the shadows. _

"_I'm guessin' you're __**Brawl**__, then…" _

_Brawl leaned down and tilted his helm to the side, his cruel visor glowing brightly at the sight of the bleeding officer, "You really are a detective, aren't you? I didn't even hafta introduce myself…"_

_Barricade stepped into the conversation, crossing his arms, "Where's the transformation cog, Capri? Unless you managed to fit it up yer tailpipe, it looks like you failed to bring it __**along**__..."_

_The Capri Detective spat out some of his own energon, "First, tell me this… how did you know it was me? I covered my tracks every step of the way, I didn't tell a single soul that I'd found the cog… This happened __**years**__ ago, any trail that could've been left behind would've been cold by the time you picked up on it…"_

_The younger Enforcer chuckled quietly, "Except… ya did tell __**one**__ bot…" He tilted his helm, "The one whose ship you borrowed."_

_The Detective's optics widened behind his visor as he looked up quickly, "What…?"_

"_You had to sell me out right off the bat, didn't ya, kid…" A new voice rumbled from the shadows._

_Barricade looked past the downed Detective with a malicious smirk, "I thought I'd see how much I could pile on him all at once… C'mon, you know you wanna come over and take a look at his face right now…"_

"_Oh… I've seen his face plenty enough…" _

_Shifting on his knees, the Capri Detective looked back, already knowing who he was going to see, "Lockdown… the frag have you done…?"_

"_Sorry, Capri. A mech's gotta make his living, and these Gladiators sure know how to pull in the big ones." Lockdown walked across the platform to his lifelong friend and previous partner. "Just tell me where the cog is, and everything will be fine. You don't wanna step in front of these Gladiators, Capri, they'll hit you hard where it smarts the most, and I can't say I'll be able to protect you. Or your cute little family…" Kneeling, he tilts his helm as he looks the other mech in the optics._

"_You sold me out… My kid's gonna grow up without his father because of you… My __**wife**__…"_

"_Aww, now now, don't be talkin' like that!" Lockdown set his hook on the Capri Detective's shoulder, "You make it sound like the game's already over for you! No, it's just starting… because listen, if you just hand over the transformation cog, I can get you a __**deal**__ with Megatronus and his boys… The pay is real good, Capri, you could put your family in the kinda home they __**deserve**__ to live in, no more of this… __**Slumming**__ business… C'mon, don't you remember back in the day? Bounty hunting, you, me, Dev, we used to be a fraggin' rich bots… Well, me 'n Dev still are. 'N then you threw it all away, and for what? __**Security **__on Cybertron?"_

"_I didn't want my kid to grow up knowin' his father was a two-bit jockey breakin' the law to work under the table for aliens…"_

"_That's sweet, Capri, it really is. And I respect that, you had a __**real**__ good run… Really, you did. We're all proud of you now, so… You had your run, now it's time to get back into the real business again." Lockdown patted his ex-partner's cheek, the proximity of their faces an echoing reminder of just how much they used to consider each other as brothers. _

_The Capri detective took in a sharp, hissing breath of air through his intakes before spitting in Lockdown's crimson optics, "Get fragged, Lockdown."_

_The dark bounty hunter was still for a moment, staring through the hocked coolant in his optics at the other mech before wiping it away with his hand, sighing quietly, "I really hoped you would've been smarter than this, Capri… Pit, I forgot… you're more stubborn than Devy." A burst of movement erupted as the bounty hunter suddenly slammed his fist across the Detective's face, knocking him down onto his side. He stood up, looking down at the officer before putting his ped on the mech's chest to keep him in place, "You like to swim, Capri? Let's take a walk down to the harbor…"_


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: Thank you Sez and Blackpanther for your reviews, sorry for all dem feeeels in the last chapter, I'll reimburse you for any spent tissues XD

To my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Kid… Hey, kid…"<em>

"_Nightbeat? C'mon, Nightbeat, wake up!"_

The visions of my father's face are still imprinting themselves across the inside of my optic shutters, bright streaks of data dragging through my processor and connecting with the _Monacus_. Slowly, the motions begin to fall still, and I'm pulled back into the present.

It takes me a while to get my optics rebooted, a stinging cold biting all across my chassis, a chilled condensation built up on my plating. Finally, my optics online, and I find four faces hovering over me. Golden, emerald, red, and turquoise eyes, all focused on me.

"Nightbeat?" Siren's worried expression shifts a bit, a small smile gradually rising on it, though he's uncertain if he should be doing so or not. Did something happen while I was connected to the ship?

"Primus, kid…" Devcon sighs and rubs his face, "We thought you were a goner…"

What? Yeah, something happened while I was out. Judging by the subsiding pain in my chest, I'm guessing my spark almost overheated from being connected directly into the ship's nav systems. Close call.

And… what was with those memory files I saw? My father's last moments before his killing… but how could they have gotten onto the map sphere? If he was killed, how did his final memories get transferred over…? It doesn't make any sense… maybe it was just a dream? Or… maybe it was something else? I've heard of bots communicating from the Afterspark, but…

Enough of that train of though. I could really use a hug, too.

As if my thoughts produced a neon 'hug me' sign over my helm, Siren suddenly squeezes around Devcon before wrapping his arms around me, helping me sit up in the process.

I release a light vent of air and smirk lightly, thankful to have a friend like him, one that looks after me just as much as I look after him. Patting him on the back, I look over to the others, "So where are we now? Did it work? Did the ship get the coordinates…?"

Siren's face finally lights up as he grins and nods quickly, "Yeah! The controls just started working on their own, and the ship flew us out to—"

"Out to this big asteroid field of _dead-ends_." Hosehead frowns deeply as he looks to the front windshield of the cockpit, "We've been floating out here for a while now, searching for anything that could hold some meaning to it, but we've come up with absolutely nil."

"What?" My spark tightens in my chest compartment as I look past the faces to the windshield, seeing nothing but drifting space rocks beyond it. Against Fera's quiet protests, I swing my legs off the slab before standing with Siren's help, the hydraulics in my legs giving a bit before stabilizing. Going to the front end of the cockpit, I press my hand against the windshield as I gaze out at the utter nothingness, "This can't be it… we must've missed something, there's—there's gotta be something else!"

I start a little as Devcon puts his hand on my shoulder, "Sometimes the trail runs cold, kid… All we can do is turn around, retrace our steps, and pick up on another one while it's still warm."

"No… The map sphere—it's at the center of all of this, Dad _left it to me_—he left everything to me!"

"Nightbeat, you've been workin' real hard, you've done more than anybot could've ever asked of you… But you can't start losing it now, we still have a ways to go…"

"What other option is there? We have no idea where Dad could've hidden this thing if we don't follow the sphere map's directions!"

Just before I lose myself to my own dismay, the ship suddenly gives a violent shake, knocking everyone aboard to the ground, a few startled shouts leaving us. I turn my optics upwards as the lights begin to flicker—before they go out entirely.

"What the frag was that—?" Hosehead's question is left unanswered as another tremor erupts through the ship.

In the next moment, a sickening feeling grips my chassis as my vision is drowned out in a bright flash of white. The air in my intakes is forced out sharply, and for a moment it feels as though my body is shifting violently between weightlessness and heavily pressured. As quickly as the sensations arose, however, they suddenly falter, and I sink flat onto the floor, dazed as my audios ring and static dances across my optics.

What… the Pit just happened?

"D-Devcon! Fera's leaking!" Siren's frantic voice and words are enough to pull me out of the strange funk, and as I lift my helm and look around, it seems everyone else is in a similar state of disarray.

Fera coughs up more of that red liquid from her mouth, and I'm taken aback by how pale her complexion is, as if the life was almost ripped out of her body. Siren delicately cradles the woman in his arms as Devcon quickly crawls over to assist her—but does he know how?

"That was…" Hosehead sits up on the ground, his translucent visor bright as he glances about, "We were just teleported…"

I wasn't expecting that, "What? How? By who?"

Devcon is doing something with Fera's wrist, feeling around the underside of it as he looks intensely into her eyes—maybe organics have some kind of battery indicator in their pupils? Turning his helm to glance over at Hosehead, he frowns lightly as he speaks, "That's impossible, this ship doesn't have the power reserves to support a quantum jump, it hasn't for a while now…"

I squint lightly in thought, looking to the windshield again, "Who says it was the ship's doing…?" Standing slowly, I walk over to the windshield again, my optics flaring through my visor as I'm met by an entirely new sight—a massive planetoid is suddenly ahead of us, the asteroid field that we'd just been in long gone, "Uh… Devcon…"

"What is it?" He looks my way before down at Fera, "You alright, doll?"

"Yes, I'm… I'm fine, just… dizzy, now…" Fera looks as though she can hardly keep her eyes open, her neck like rubber as her head limply rolls a bit. Never teleport an organic, I should remember that one.

"Siren, you keep an optic on her, yeah?" He waits to receive a nod from the small mech before he stands and quickly comes over to my side, looking out the windshield, "Holy motherboard of Primus… "

Hosehead comes up along my other side, "Any idea where we are?"

Devcon attempts to bring the power back on the ship, "Nothin'… We're flying blind out here. We've only got one back-up generator running right now—and thank the Guiding Hand it's the one keeping the air on…" He glances back at Fera briefly.

"Then… how are we still moving?" I look up at my uncle, the ship not quite in the reach of the planetoid's field of gravity, yet we're being pulled ever closer nonetheless.

"Someone has brought us here…" Hosehead's expression turns somber, "Whoever it is, we are at their mercy."

I stare at Hosehead for a moment, wondering what explanations he could possibly be trying to use to rationalize this situation in that Colonist head of his. Judging by his armor and the red tattoo-like marks across his face and chassis, along with his accent, I'd bet he and his people still live like the Ancients of Cybertron, and their beliefs and ways of thinking are just as old.

"We're entering the atmosphere, everyone hold tight!" Devcon takes a hold of my arm as he speaks, pulling me closer as the ship begins to quiver and quake upon entering the atmosphere of the unknown planet, cursing under his breath as he continues his efforts to bring the ship back online.

Our descent begins at an easy pace, but just as we break through a thick plume of clouds, the ship takes a sudden, spark-stopping plunge towards the ground far below. I suck in a gasp of air as my peds lift from the floor with the abrupt drop, but Devcon pulls me by my arm and braces me against himself. I panic as I look about the cockpit to see where everyone else is—Hosehead's grabbed onto a chair to keep himself down, whereas Siren has bent himself over Fera and has a tight hold of a handle to a floor panel, holding them both to the floor.

Looking ahead to the windshield, my vocalizer squeezes tightly shut as the ground comes barreling towards the ship's nose, "W-We're gonna crash!"

Everything seems to slow down as the ship is mere moments away from collision, thoughts racing through my processor.

_I wish I'd said goodbye to Mom, and told her that I love her. _

_I wish Siren wasn't at the other side of the room, but right here next to me._

_I wish I could've made Prowl proud. _

_I wish I could've forgiven Devcon. _

_I wish I could've gotten to know who Fera really is. _

_I wish I could've finished your work, Dad._

Devcon's voice vibrates in my audio receptors, but I can't process the words just as the ship meets its shadow on the ground—only, the shadow suddenly grows, and grows—!

That isn't the ship's shadow… the earth just opened up below us!

Devcon's words register this time as he releases a shocked yell, "Primus almighty—!"

Everything goes pitch black, the only light coming from our optics as the ship continues to seemingly plunge deeper and deeper into the darkness, the silence outside of our falling craft creating an eerie bubble around the sounds of the ship's creaking and our gasping breath.

"S-Siren!"

"I-I'm okay, Nightbeat!"

"Devcon, what is happening?!"

"Stay calm, Fera, just brace yourselves, all of you!"

"We've been swallowed into the planet… Are we still alive?"

"Easy on the doom 'n gloom, Red, it ain't over 'til it's over!"

"Nightbeat?"

"I'm here, Siren!"

"I-I'm scared!"

* * *

><p><em>My sector wept.<em>

_Another one of us had fallen to The Unmaker. One of our finest._

_A protector._

_A servant of good._

_My father._

_I remember standing with my mother in the rain. It was cold, as was her hand. Mine was numb._

_I remember how nicely set the memorial service was. The coffin was deep blue, shiny, and it reflected the storm clouds above. A flag bearing the Enforcer's badge was laid across the surface in the center. A small holographic image of my father's visage floated over it. _

_The symbol of the Red Face loomed over the coffin, set as a plaque on a torch that had a dancing flame that battled with the rain. The Red Face. The symbol of Iacon, the senate, the Enforcers, all of them. All those who left my father on his own, those who were supposed to be on his side, but abandoned him._

_I hated that symbol. Its eyes were hollow, slits falling from the corners of its lying mouth to the sides of its chin. _

_There were words spoken by an old mech who had a funny-looking beard, but he spoke them in Ancient Cybertronian. I was too young to understand what the words meant, and it made me even angrier than I already was._

_There were many faces in the crowd at the ceremony, most were locals and neighbors. Only a few were Enforcers. _

_Dad wasn't very popular among his peers. He made too much noise, sifted the dust, looked for things that the Law wished to hide from the Truth. _

_He was especially… 'notorious' among the higher-ups. Their fancy titles bearing demand for reverence never struck much awe in him. If anything, it made them a target to him. He had his own way, his own plans for getting things done… and he got results. _

_He was the hero of us, of Sector Capri. _

_In a city that kept dropping the lower caste further down the spiral to the bottom of their 'to-do' list, my father's work brought more than justice. It brought us hope. _

_As bots began to come forward to me and my mother, to offer their condolences and long-practiced pieces, I seemed to gain a loss of hearing. I knew they meant well, I knew some were hurting just like I was… but their pretty words and ancient phrases didn't reach me. _

_Only one mech's words managed to penetrate the sound of the rain:_

"_I admired your father."_

_A Praxian._

_An Academy student, freshly transferred from his home city, surrounded by strangers… yet urged to share his words for a mech he only knew from case reports and a fleeting introduction. He even hugged me. Or maybe I hugged him. _

_The Praxian made a promise to me that day. He's held true to it ever since._

_I haven't made it very easy for him to do that, though…_


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: Sorry for the late night post, ya'll, a lot came up today and I just started writing a few hours ago XD; I decided to slap on another lil flashback to this chapter since my reviewers seemed to like the previous ones so much, so I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. ^_^ The end is near, my friends... very near XD

Thank you Sez and Meg for your comments last week! It always means so much to hear back from ya'll to know how I'm doing and what you like along with what you wanna see more of! ^_^

To my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em><strong>I'm scared!"<strong>_

_Nightbeat huffed as he looked over to the smaller bot following him through the subsurface water tunnels beneath the city of Iacon, "Why? I'm here, there's nothin' to be scared of."_

"_But it's real dark in here… What if we find a monster?"_

_The Capri native's golden visor brightened as he chuckled quietly, "Then I'll pop 'im a good one, okay?"_

_Siren fiddled with his hands for a moment, "But what if it gets you first?"_

"_Then…" Nightbeat smirked and poked his small companion in the chest, "You'll hafta pop 'im for me. C'mon, I showed you how to punch, remember?"_

"_Yeah…" The youngling's pale blue face lit up a little._

"_You could always just scream at it, too. You got a big mouth." The midnight blue youngling snickered as his friend let out an indignant whine._

_Suddenly, a third voice rang out in the tunnels, making the two sparklings freeze in place, "Nightbeat? Siren? I know I saw you two come down here… Where are you?"_

"_Uh oh, its da __**fuzz**__…" Nightbeat cackled a bit as he stomped his peds in the low-level water, drawing the attention of the Praxian at the other end of the tunnel._

"_Nightbeat—? I see you, Nightbeat! Come here, now!"_

"_Run!" Taking a hold of Siren's wrist, the mischievous youngling led his friend down another path, evading capture by the Praxian student._

"_Nightbeat! If you two don't stop this instant, I'll—"_

"_Nightbeat, he sounds mad!" Siren's large, red optics were wide in worry as he ran along with his partner in crime. _

"_It's cuz he doesn't play enough, Si, but we're fixing that this very moment! Running is good play for Praxians with stiff bottoms!"_

_Siren gasped at the other's choice of diction, "Nightbeat, you can't say 'bottom'! That's a bad word!"_

"_You just said it, too, I guess that means you have good reason to be running now just like me!"_

"_Nightbeat, that isn't fair!"_

_Both sparklings suddenly screeched in surprise, however, as their path was suddenly cut off as the Praxian darted out of an adjacent tunnel ahead. Unable to turn around quickly enough, they were both caught by the rims of their back armor and plucked from the ground. _

"_You two should know better than to be wandering around down here, you could run into serious danger!" _

"_Awww, Prowl!" Nightbeat gave his nastiest frown to the white-clad mech. _

"_Someday you'll understand, Nightbeat. The only thing that dark places invite is trouble."_

* * *

><p>My peds are moving beneath me, leading me somewhere into the pitch darkness. I don't think I'm aboard the ship anymore… so where the frag am I going?<p>

Slowly, I come out of my strange trance, a quiet panic beginning to stir in the core of my spark. I can't see a single thing, but from the rough texture beneath my peds, I'm betting I'm definitely not aboard the _Monacus _any longer. Holding my hands out, I warily move forward, the golden glow of my visor just barely reaching to my forearms as they stretch out in front of me. Once my senses are a bit more together, I get the idea to retract my visor, my highly attuned optics able to see a bit better into the darkness.

I'm not sure if my processor is correctly translating the shapes I'm seeing, however. Crystal formations jut out of the rough, rocky ground, but there's something more to my surroundings. I keep catching glimpses of faint markings that almost appear to have the slightest of glows to them. What happened before I went out?

We were being pulled towards a planet, after being teleported from the asteroid field… the planet opened up around us, and we were pulled in, then nothing.

I kneel by one of the glowing marks, squinting as I try to take a closer look at it. It almost looks like writing. Reaching out, I brush my fingertips across the surface, trying to get a feel of what it could be made of. However, the moment my fingers make contact, it releases a bright flare of light, nearly blinding me as I release a sharp gasp in surprise. Falling back onto my aft plates, I'm left breathless for a moment as more marks simultaneously light up across the entire interior of what turns out to be a massive, subsurface cavern. I quickly drop my visor back over my optics to save them from getting damaged by the shattering spectacle of lights, every nook and cranny becoming visible before me.

Taking a moment to collect myself, I look around at my new surroundings, awestruck at the immense size of the naturally occurring crystal and rock formations, never having felt so small before. Just as I had suspected, I find there to be less innate, metal structures melded within—it almost looks Cybertronian in nature. Gathering myself up onto my peds once more, I slowly walk amidst the magnificent crystals, observing the metal plates and shapes that seem to have been grown over by the native formations. Whatever these metals pieces are a part of, it's been in the core of this planet for a very long time. I play with the thought of an ancient Cybertronian actually _existing_ as the core of this planet… but that'd just be silly.

It's also dawned on me that the _Monacus_ is nowhere in sight, which indicates that I must've been sleepwalking for a longer time than I'd been aware of. That would probably explain all the scrapes on my legs and hands, I must've taken a few tumbles.

The others… Siren, Fera—are they alright? Why would I leave them behind and not remember? It almost feels like there's something pulling at me, guiding me somewhere…

There's a low, steady tone reverberating through the cavern, but the last thing it sounds like is wind. It almost sounds like a power supply in standby mode… a _very big_ power supply. It's hard to tell which direction it's coming from, so all I can do is keep going the way I was before. Gradually, the tone grows stronger as I continue forward, to the point that I can feel it vibrating in my chest—there is definitely something very big in here…

All theories and questions come to an abrupt pause, however, as I find myself at a dead end. Not a good sign. This place is huge, I could be wandering down here for the rest of my life cycle if I'm not careful…

Just before I'm about to turn and follow my tracks back the way I came, I catch a glimpse of a soft light emanating from a crevasse between two large crystal growths. Taking a closer look, I find that the light isn't dim, it's just far away at the other end of the opening. I bet I could fit in there…

Kneeling a bit, I begin to ease myself into the narrow crevasse, trying not to think of all the ways that this could go wrong, including how the giant crystals could crush me. The dim light at the other end slowly brightens as I follow towards it, until finally I push out from between the two crystals, stopping instantly as I'm plunged into an entirely different environment.

In every direction, metal walls and floors glisten with blinking lights of various colors—how retro. But also very mind boggling. Am I really still inside the planet that sucked us in?

Warily, I move further from the entry point of the strange structure, finding a few stairways and going up them, some hallways leading me this way and that. Do I even know where I'm going? This place almost feels familiar… but how? Could it have something to do with the data that the map sphere downloaded into my processor? Maybe Dad was here before… but where is "here"?

I then skip a step and stop in my tracks, suddenly feeling that I'm being watched. Looking around, a deep sinking feeling seats itself in my tanks, making my spark flutter. Mom always told me to believe in my instincts, it knows when danger is around. That works for me and all, but at the moment, I have no idea what I'm watching out for.

My plating goes cold, however, as a new sound arises amidst the low, constant hum that's been filling my audios—sounds organic in nature, and it sounds hungry. A quiet, rolling growl. In a place like this? How could there possibly be an organic? It's too cold, and the oxygen levels aren't exactly ideal.

My attempts to excuse the unseen stalker's existence are ripped from my mind, though, as a quad-pedal creature suddenly bursts from a dark stairwell, pumping muscles sending its heavy form straight at me. A startled yelp sounds from my vocalizer as I drop to the ground, the beast's forward trajectory missing my helm by inches. Pushing myself back to my peds, I waste no time in finding out what the thing is as I shoot down a hallway, my ped steps sending metallic echoes against the walls all around. It isn't long before I hear the heaved breaths of my pursuer catching up behind me, motivating my pistons to work overtime to haul my aft even faster.

Looking ahead, however, I can feel my spark almost explode at the sight of three conjoined walls—a dead end. Skidding to a stop, my shoulder collides against the wall before I look back, rotating the photon pistols on the sides of my helm as I prepare to defend myself. Maybe I can fry its eyes to death.

I'm scrapped.

The beast slides around the corner at the other end of the hall before releasing a shrieking roar as it begins its charge towards me. It's certainly one of the strangest aliens I've seen up to date—its hide made of a thick, green, crystal-like surface that's giving off a pale glow, yellow eyes piercing through. Oh, and there's the huge mouth with big, sharp teeth, that's important to make note of, too.

I cringe tightly as the creature comes ever closer, bracing myself against the wall, my breath catching in my throat before I release a scream as the hunter makes its leap at me. Just as I fire off my photon pistols and blind the creature, however, the floor beneath me suddenly splits open, and I'm left breathless as I fall into darkness. All around me, loud sounds begin to erupt in the darkness—sounds of massive gears churning, hydraulics of unfathomable strength hissing sharply—and in the next moment, I'm surrounded by flaring red lights set against shifting, mechanical parts. I grunt as I land on a platform that almost seems to have _reached out_ for me, dazed by the unexpected turn of events mixing with my adrenaline rush.

Just when I think I'm out of the thick of things, however, a shriek rings out among the sounds of the living machine around me, drawing my attention upwards as my alien pursuer falls towards me. Startled to the point of stupidity, I roll off of the platform just before the creature lands on it, and once again I'm sent free-falling. This time, however, a clamp emerges from the shifting walls of gears and grabs a hold of me around the waist, pulling me through an opening in the wall and shutting me within before the creature can give chase.

Everything goes dark once more as I'm carried through the changing structure, before I'm suddenly jolted around as a set of powerful tremors pulse through the air. Before I can figure out what's going on, I'm being spun around and shot up through what's looking like the inner workings of a massive machine, the clamp still firmly around me, a light shining far above. Panels overhead slide away seamlessly as I'm lifted upwards, and in the next moment, the clamp releases me onto a platform that closes around me.

My intakes are venting air as quickly as they can in an attempt to cool my overheated systems, small wheezes of static leaving my vocalizer as I lie limp on my side within the enclosure, my processor spinning as I try to figure out what could possibly be going on around me. It was almost like the building or whatever I was in had begun to change… transform.

Am I inside a living thing?

"**Capri."**

I freeze as the single word booms through my entire chassis, my optics feeling as though they could burst through my visor. Suddenly, the enclosure around me starts to peel away—and that's when I realize… I'm in a giant _hand_.

Bright light from a distant star orbiting the planet glares across the surface of my visor, a breeze of fresh air blowing over my chassis as I look up to see a very large, very _Cybertronian _face looking down at me. Chunks of broken crystal and earth fall from the humongous mech's helm and shoulders as he stands over the planet that had apparently been encasing him within—and I'm pretty sure I just saw the green alien that had been chasing me among the falling debris as well. Good riddance.

Swallowing hard, I look up once more at the giant's face, his enormous optics casting a red glow across my form, "I'm… I'm from Sector Capri…"

Wow. That could very well have been the most thought-out, thought-provoking, or maybe most thoughtless thing I've ever said to a bot that's the size of a city. Then again, I can't say I've talked to that many city-sized bots before.

The mech's faceplates seem to be frozen into a look of unyielding boredom, his mouth unmoving as his booming voice sounds again, **"Son of Capri. Nightbeat."**

Woah… how many bots can say they've had a giant say their name? That was pretty chilling. I think I might've even sprung a leak. Hope not. That wouldn't be a good first impression, to leak all over this guy's hand…

"**Respond."**

I wince a bit, "Ah—yes, I'm Nightbeat, my Dad was called Capri, I…" I shift and carefully stand up, holding onto the large thumb of the hand to keep myself balanced, "I'm looking for something, something he hid a long time ago… We used data from a sphere map he left behind, and it led us here, in a way… I don't really know where 'here' is, we were teleported from an asteroid field in the Beta-Tri Quadrant…"

The mech seems to quietly contemplate to himself for a moment, **"Then Capri is no longer functioning, if you are here…"**

I blink lightly as I can almost sense an edge of sorrow in the titan's monotone voice, my optics dimming a bit in response, "Yes… He's gone now." Pausing, my core tightens a bit as a wave of anxiety comes over me, "Um, I've lost my friends—we came here in a ship, but I got separated from them somehow, do you know where they—"

"**Hey, Nightbeat!"**

Both the giant mech and I jolt as Siren's voice suddenly rings through the air—and he sounds enthusiastic. Looking around hastily, I call out to him, "Siren? Where are you?!"

"**I'm up here! Look up!"**

The giant makes a low, electronic buzz, almost mimicking a groan, **"Your friends are closer than you think."**

Looking up to the titan's face, I can feel my face go pale as my optics are drawn over to the mech's left audio—which Siren is currently peeking out of, waving his hand to get my attention, "Siren—? What are you _doing_ in there?"

"**I dunno!" **He giggles before continuing, **"After the ship got swallowed up, we all woke and noticed you were gone, so we went wandering around until we got stuck in this big **_**room! **_**Turns out, we're inside this big guy's **_**head!"**_

Again the titan buzzes lowly, optics flickering a bit at the youngling's shouting—literally right in his audio.

"You mean everybot else is up there with you?"

"**Yeah! Everybot's okay!"** Siren scoots over a bit as Hosehead peeks out next to him, and laughs as Devcon leans out over him to also look my way. Knowing Siren, this has probably been very emotionally draining and stressful for him, especially since I wasn't around to help him through… and if he's laughing this much… then he's probably gonna start crying soon. The kid's just so delicate sometimes…

Sure enough, Siren's laughter slowly morphs into a mix of hiccups and giggles, finally at his limit of surprises and excitement. Hosehead raises an optic ridge and pouts at the blubbering bot, while Devcon shakes his helm with a chuckle and rubs the youngling's pale grey helm. I'm on edge for a moment, wondering where Fera is until I see the woman's slender arms wrap around Siren's shoulders, pulling the little mech out of sight, likely to coddle him.

Feeling a wash of relief, I fall back onto my aft, rubbing my forehead. Thank Primus, they're all okay… Now to figure out why we're even _here_…

I look up at the titan, "Say… What's your name?"

The city-sized mech brings me a bit closer, **"I am Grand Maximus. Keeper of the Capri's final secret." **


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving, I for one am set in terms of food for the next week or so, I'm still full. XD Something cool I thought I might as well note-Siren is getting a lot of attention recently thanks to his appearance in the IDW comic "More than Meets the Eye", issue #11. He only gets one panel and one word (loud word of course), but apparently it was enough to bring him more fans! I'm so happy to see more people are learning about him, he's been a favorite character of mine since I first saw him in the Marvel TF comics with Nightbeat 'n Hosehead X) Keep a look out on my DA ( .c om) page for some artwork of him, I'm working on an image based off of Sector Capri: Exodus! I love the MTMTE design, but I'm using my own design that I made just for the Capri series, and of course I've got his big shiny optics showing rather than having a visor over them, I've always preferred him without it. ^_^

The end is very near, but don't think it'll come softly without a few final twists! Sparks will break, energon will spill, and Siren will scream! (the last bit isn't a surprise but still it all sounds very dramatic combined...)

Thank you SezWho and Transformersluvr for your reviews! I hope I'll keep ya'll entertained to the very end! X)

To my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Do you know what a secret is?"<em>

_Nightbeat narrowed his golden optics behind his visor, frowning a little at the Praxian's question, "Just cuz I'm small doesn't mean I'm __**dumb**__."_

_Prowl chuckled quietly as he stood knelt down in front of the other, "Yes, I'm quite aware of that, Nightbeat. But do you __**really**__ know what a secret is?"_

"_It's somethin' that other bots don't know that you know."_

"_It's much more than that, especially if it isn't your own secret…"_

_The midnight blue youngling tilted his helm, "Huh? Are you tryin' to go over my head?"_

_The white-clad Academy student smiled and shook his helm, "Not at all, Nightbeat. In fact, I'm trying to go __**in**__ your head so I can teach you something."_

"_So teach me. What's a secret to you?"_

"_For starters, it's something to be wary of. Bots who go around with secrets could be trouble, because they're hiding something from everybot else for a reason. They might tell you one secret, but then you don't know what they could be holding back… and once you've learned of their secret, it's like they've attached a wire to you, and now you're locked to that secret as well. It's a very dangerous world, Nightbeat, and if you're told a secret, and you're told to keep it—then you could find yourself in a very risky balance between doing the right thing and doing what keeps you safe. Do you understand?"_

_Nightbeat sat quietly for a moment, processing all that the Praxian had told him. As it all clicked together, his orange-golden visor lit up as he nodded, "Yeah, I do." A mischievous smirk followed his words, "So you really want me to tell you the secret that Jazz told me about that Roulette girl at the Academy, in other words."_

* * *

><p>"His last secret? My dad's?"<p>

Grand Maximus's massive head moves a little in what I can only assume is an attempted nod, **"He came to me in the past many times. He was a friend. I agreed to keep his secret safe, as I knew it meant keeping Cybertron safe."**

It has to be the Trypticon transformation cog he's talking about… what else could it possibly be?

The titan continues before I can put my words together fast enough for more questions, **"You are the sole spark that I was instructed to endow his secrets upon. I was awoken by your presence in the asteroid field at the edge of Beta-Tri, and that is when I brought you here."**

"So you have teleportation technology…" I shake my helm lightly; that's incredible. Teleporting somebot to where you are, without a spacebridge or any similarly physically tangible means… How is it possible?

Looking up to Maximus, I do my best to project my voice to him, "Whatever secrets you have to show me… I want my crew to know them, too. They've helped me come this far, I never would've made it on my own. They're as much a part of this as I am."

Grand Maximus again attempts a nod, perhaps being so careful with the gesture due to the fact he has _guests_ inside his head, **"Hold on."**

Hold on—as in wait a moment, or literally hold on?

I figure out the answer soon enough as what seems like a cruel trap door in the palm of the massive mech's hand suddenly opens up beneath me, a familiar clamp catching me around the waist as I fall in. I instinctively curl up into a ball as much as I can as I can hear and feel massive tremors reverberating all around me, wondering what this joker could possibly be up to now. He must be transforming into whatever he was when he was camping out in the core of the planet. Maybe he turns into a train. Primus I hate trains.

But then, why would a space-voyaging mech of indecently incredible proportions turn into a train? What would he be a train for, skyscrapers? Maybe he turns into a moon and gets around by calculating his trajectories via the pull and push of planets' gravities. That would be either really lame or slightly cool. He could be like a giant bowling ball of death on a planet. Maybe he turns into something even more sinister, like a planet-cracking drill.

Maybe he's an over-glorified trolley that teleports all the tracks he needs to get around.

I finish up with amusing myself as I'm once more lifted up through an opening panel, blinking a few times as I look up at what our friend here has transformed into... blocks. Building blocks. Giant building blocks.

Oh wait, or maybe a city.

A _city?_ Hopefully a flying city, or _something_, cuz that's almost depressing to think about, being a city…

I wonder if anybot ever lives in him.

"**Nightbeat! Look, he's a **_**city!"**_

As usual, my soul almost leaves my body as I'm startled by the sudden shout from Siren, looking over to him as he runs out from a random 'building'. I squirm a bit as I find that the clamp hand is still holding me around the waist, pouting as I give it a light smack, the appendage calmly releasing me in return. I slide down the platform I was brought up to and smile at my partner, grunting as I'm all but pummeled over by a tight hug, "You okay, Siren? Anybot yell at you while I was gone?"

Cuz I'd kick their aft if they did. Maybe I'd just pat Fera's if she yelled at him.

Yeah, just a pat.

Siren shook his helm, "No, everybot was just yelling cuz we couldn't find you, Hosehead said something probably ate you."

I can feel my optic twitch, "Oh, did he?"

"Yes, because you're soft and squishy like the victims of the predators that roamed the moon you found me on." Hosehead leans his elbow on my shoulder, suddenly _there_.

I turn my helm and look to the red Colonist, giving him a look—with a _smile_, of course.

He returns the smile, but really it's more like we're baring our teeth at each other.

Siren also smiles, obviously not seeing the underlying aggression and thinks it's just a happy fest.

Hosehead's lip twitches a bit as he holds the sharp smile, "You go wandering off ships into unknown places often? Seems like something a sparkling would do."

"I needed some fresh air, cuz apparently when the Colonists left Cybertron they forgot to bring any hygienic technology with them." My smile remains just as steadily, leading Siren to give us a confused look, though he also keeps smiling.

Hosehead gives a low, hardy laugh and heavily drops his hand onto my shoulder, taking every advantage of that little tiny inch of extra height he has on me as he attempts to _loom_ over me. I retaliate by laughing louder than him, smacking my hand onto his shoulder and squeezing it. At this point, Siren is just staring at us with a dumb smile and big optics, his teeth parted open like he's trying to come up with something to say, _maybe_ starting to see that we're not being so friendly as we're pretending to be.

"Ah… you three junkies on somethin'?" Devcon walks over with an arm around Fera, the woman leaning on him a little, her face a bit pale.

Hosehead is about to speak, but I give a loud, dominating chuckle to interrupt him as I look over to my uncle, "Naw, we're just catching up with each other. Hosehead was worried about me."

I can feel a wave of heat emanate from Hosehead's frame as his temper rises, his smile starting to look more like a snarl as he laughs sharply through his teeth, "Yeah, real worried. No bot warned me that Nightbeat here suffered from somnambulism."

Siren squints his optics, "Somna-what?"

I puff and roll my optics at Hosehead before looking to Siren, whispering to him, "It's a fancy way of saying I sleepwalk."

The pale blue mech's optics widened at my explanation, **"You **_**do?**_** I never knew that!"**

Everyone stares at Siren for a moment before I turn away from him and Hosehead, _subtly_ putting my hand on the later's face and pushing it away as I go over to stand in the middle of the whole crew, "Alright, I'm glad to see that everybot—and every woman—is okay." Putting my hands on my hips, I take in a deep breath as I look up at the towering buildings of the titan city, "We've come a long way… and this is finally it."

This is gonna be corny as Pit, but it needs to be said.

I look to Fera first, "Fera, if it hadn't been for your help, me 'n Siren would've been stuck on that moon with those bounty hunters for who knows how long, 'n Siren probably would've been eaten."

Siren gives a little squeek.

I continue on, "You've got your past, but what you've done for us is all that matters to me. You even gave Siren a new hand, and I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for that."

Fera smiles at me and nods, "For a cute face like yours, I'd do it all over again. You are most welcome, Nightbeat."

I smirk at her before looking to Devcon, the older mech visibly shifting in a slightly uncomfortable manner. He's not expecting to hear many thanks for me. Let's see if I can surprise him.

"Devcon… You've really come through for me on this one."

He blinks lightly, then smiles at me and chuckles quietly, content.

"But… my mom probably _is_ gonna kill you when she sees you again, but just know that I'm still thankful for everything you've done for me 'n Siren." I grin at my uncle's exasperated look, able to see he's clearly not looking forward to seeing Minerva again. Turning, I look to Hosehead, raising an optic ridge as I see his sharp gaze focused on me. Stepping up to him, I give him a little pat on the shoulder, "Well, it turns out that Colonists are kinda badafts, so having you around as extra muscle has been more of a good thing than anything else." I chuckle as he rolls his optics, "But honestly, you took care of Siren when I wasn't there to do so myself… so… thank you for that."

Before it gets awkward, I quickly avert my attention to Siren, smirking as he looks just about ready to turn on the waterworks in his optics again. I put my hands on his shoulders and lightly hold the back of his neck, "Looks like you gettin' on that train to Polyhex was a good move after all, huh? I was planning to go this alone… but I'm really glad you came with me, Si. You still need _some_ looking after… but I'm really impressed with how much you've grown up. You're really on your way, kid… and I'm glad you're my partner."

As I finish, Siren nods and sniffs lightly before finally grabbing me in a tight hug. I chuckle quietly and return it, rubbing the back of his helm. Such a good kid…

A bold voice erupts from somewhere (somehow) within the great city-former,** "If you are ready, son of Capri…"**

Looking up at the tall towers, uncertain of really where I _should_ be looking, I nod, "We're ready."

Up ahead, a tall door slowly slides up, bright light escaping from the space within. I glance around to the others, and then start forward, entering the doorway into what looks like a plain room. Once we're all inside, however, the door closes, encasing us in darkness.

"Well… this is cool." Hosehead's deadpan tone makes me sigh. Before a second bot can pipe up with a smartaft comment, the room moves, the sound of slow gears filling it.

Fera's voice is the next to sound, "It's an elevator…"

"**I wonder if we're going up or down?"**

I can feel everyone inside jolt at Siren's outburst as I bite my lip to hold back a grin, "Feels like we're going down, Siren…"

"**Again?"**

"I don't think we're going back into the planet's core, if that's what you're worried about…"

The elevator easily grinds to a halt, the door once more sliding up to let us out. Stepping out first, I lead the way into a vast room that's filled to the brim with blinking lights and complex circuit boards—yet it all looks so clean, the surface of everything glowing with a golden hue. In the center of the room, there's a massive energy beam enclosed in a cylinder of glass that reaches from the floor to the ceiling, something round captured within the beam and floating in a weightless fashion.

Devcon steps up beside me, optics focused on the entrapped object in the beam, "Well would you look at that…"

I look up at him, "Is it the cog…?"

"I'd say it looks like it, kid…" He looks down at me, "Go on… this is your show." He gives me a small smirk.

I return the smirk and nod to him, then look to the beam and step closer to it, the others staying at the entrance. Reaching back, I pluck Siren's wrist into my hand, encouraging him to follow me—he's followed me this far, after all, he should be next to me at the finish line. He takes the hint and walks along with me as I approach the beam. As if it senses us, the glass casing around the beam parts open in an elegant manner, thin slices of it sliding away in intricate shapes as the beam slowly lowers the T-cog to our level.

Grand Maximus's voice echoes through the depths of the space, **"This transformation cog is much like my own. It was taken from a mech who is also like me, but only in size and might. He is called Trypticon. Capri brought this to me for safe keeping, as there are those of Cybertron who sought to return it to Trypticon. This must never happen. Trypticon is a creature of vast power, as all of us titans are, and he is easily swayed towards wrong-doing."**

So this is where it all began. I reach up as the cog departs from the energy beam, accepting it in my hands. It's heavy, in more ways than one. I look it over, my visor dimming. My father held this. He kept it away from Megatron, away from all the crazies. He gave his life in doing so.

But… why would he want me to find it? Shouldn't it just… stay hidden?

I turn to Siren, holding it up a little, gesturing for him to touch it. He blinks and looks to me before reaching up, gently running his hand over the surface of my father's last secret. Turning my helm, I glance around the golden room, wishing there was a set of optics or something I could look to as I address Maximus, "Did he tell you, Grand Maximus, why he would want me to come find you? To find the cog?"

There is a pause.

"**That is something, son of Capri, that you will need to ask him for yourself. I will take you to him."**


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: What a weird week this was, but an exciting one, too! I hope ya'll will find this chapter to be the same (not weird, but exciting :I), and thank you SezWho for your review! I hope to give Hose and Beatie more opportunities to clash, I feel like there hasn't been enough of that yet XD

To all my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>"Lord Megatron."<p>

The dark Gladiator Lord turns his helm away from the view of space beyond his warship's hull, looking to the shadows creeping behind him, "Report, Soundwave. Has Starscream returned in failure yet again?"

"Negative. Zero contact has been established with Air Commander Starscream and his trine."

"Something else to report, then?"

Soundwave steps forward into the dim lighting to join his lord, "A Shi-Lai colonist vessel has been detected on the outer limits of the Beta-Tri Quadrant. It is being escorted by Shi-Lai battle cruisers."

Megatron's optics widen slightly as his frown deepens, "And what is the predicted course of this procession?"

"Trajectory readings calculate that the fleet is en route towards our spacebridge."

Megatron reels on his heel to face Soundwave as his voice booms through the room, "Treachery! The Shi Lai agreed to only send exploratory crafts into Cybertronian space in return for granting us entrance into this quadrant—they are planning to take our planet from us!" The large Gladiator storms past his loyal Lieutenant, long strides quickly taking him to the command bridge of the ship, _"Where_ is Starscream? Why hasn't he returned with my transformation cog?!"

"Attempts to obtain communications with Air Commander Starscream have—"

"We **cannot** allow the Shi-Lai convoy to reach the spacebridge! Without Trypticon's T-cog, we do not have the _means_ to destroy them; Cybertron will be ripped from our bleeding servos before the revolution even begins!" Megatron clenches his fists tightly in fury, his voice lowering to a forcibly calm tone, "Soundwave… ETA for the Shi Lai's arrival at the spacebridge."

Soundwave's yellow visor flares as the calculations are instantaneously attained, "Shi Lai convoy's ETA to the spacebridge: One joor."

Megatron's crimson optics darken as light dashes across their lenses, "If Starscream fails to return soon with the cog, we must go back to Cybertron… and destroy the spacebridge."

* * *

><p>I must've misheard him.<p>

Grand Maximus's words just now would highly suggest that if I wanted to, I could go to my father and ask him myself why he would want me to come find the T-cog to a city-destroying menace of doom.

"Ah… Grand Maximus, what do you mean by that?" My question goes unanswered for a moment as a large doorway suddenly slides open at the other end of the spacious chamber. I stare at it for a klik before looking to Siren, handing him the T-cog, "Here, hold this for me…"

Siren nods and carefully takes the heavy, Cybertronian organ into his hands, watching me as I head towards the doorway, "Nightbeat—are you going alone?" The worry is thick in his voice.

I send a glance and a small smirk back at him and the others, "I'll be fine, Si, just… wait for me here." Passing through the doorway, I hold my hand up to block a bright ray of light that's emanating from the other end of a long hall, "Grand… Where are you leading me?"

"**As I told you, son of Capri… I will take you to your father."**

This is starting to feel very eerie. My father's dead, his body was fished outta the Iacon harbor… my mother and I _buried_ him in the Enforcer Memorial Cemetery…

What if this city-forming mech we're all walking around in is crazy? What if he's got a few popped wires and thinks my father is still alive? One of the first things I told him was that Dad died… so what is he up to?

The light grows less intense as I enter into yet another chamber, this one smaller than the last. The lights flicker a bit as a small pod rises from the floor, plates of metal shifting and sliding away to reveal the encasement. I look around the chambers silently, waiting for some kind of cue or instructions of what happens next. Receiving nothing of the like, I make my own move, slowly moving forward to the pod. It looks more like a coffin…

Wait…

He's not gonna show me a dead body, is he? There's no way that it could be—no, it's too small to hold my father… unless… there isn't much left of him…

No, I _saw_ my father's chassis go down in the ground, or… at least I saw his coffin…

"**Scans of your energy readings indicate irregular spark rates, son of Capri. You have nothing to fear in this place."**

"Yeah? How about we cut the cryptic talk and mysterious packages, then? What is it that you wanna show me, Grand?" I can't help but let my anxiety sound through my voice.

"**Very well, son of Capri. This is your father's last secret. It is incomplete, but it is operational upon activation."**

The pod before me suddenly releases a sharp hiss as air is released from within its airlock, the top plate lifting away slowly. Against my will, my peds carry me a few steps closer to the pod, my optics curiously looking in an attempt to see through the white fog that's resting over the inner contents. As the fog settles, I start to make out the shape of a small form—it's about the size of a very small sparkling. Its proportions, however, are very mature in appearance… what is it?

"What is this? An alien?" I squint my optics, wafting away some of the fog to get a clearer view of the small form. It's covered head-to-toe in pale yellow armor, with a few touches of black plating. A blue visor sits over where I assume the eyes to be, the face obscured in a yellow helm.

"**Its form was constructed by the Nebulons. The Capri was closely associated with their kind; they are a technologically advanced species of organics from the planet Nebulos. They built this for him."**

What? But why? What would Dad want with a little suit of armor?

"I'm… not following, Grand… Why?"

"**It was built in haste, to serve as a vessel. A larger one was intended to be built instead, but there was no time left for your father."**

"A vessel for what, exactly…?"

"**For your father's copied processor."**

A sharp rush of energy shoots up through my systems, causing my optics to flare a bit as I look down at the small form, "What do you mean—? A copy of his processor? And this thing—this little bot, it—it's a vessel for it? It…" I can't stop tripping on my words, my mind boggled by this revelation.

"**It contains an incomplete copy of the Capri's cerebral processor—an imitation of his mind and essence."**

Impossible… this bot, if it was activated… it would share my father's personality, his likeness, his memories…?

But wait, "You said it's 'incomplete'? How?"

"**Your father had to visit the Nebulons on several occasions. The process of copying his cerebral structure had to be performed in increments, it could not be done all at once; it was a straining operation. Before the Nebulons could complete the data transfer, however, your father ceased returning to their planet. It soon became clear that he would not return ever again. Thus, the Nebulons used what they had, and placed it into the vessel you see before you. They have designated the vessel as 'Muzzle'."**

Muzzle… my father's real name…

"What were the Nebulons unable to copy, though? What's he missing?" I try to mask the desperation in my voice—if… if this is true, if there really is a perfect copy of my father's processor in this little drone… my mother and I would have him again…

An unsettling sensation creeps over me, however, as Grand Maximus is quiet for a moment before responding, **"The final step of the process was copying increments of his memory. Only a small portion was completed before the Capri ceased to be."**

His memory…? Then… if this bot is activated, there's a good chance that he won't know who I am, or who Mom is…

Would he really even know who he is himself?

"**This news is troubling to you. I apologize."**

"No, it's… you don't need to say that." I look down at the inactivated bot, my optics dimming, "Is there a way to transfer him into a regular-sized chassis?"

"**The Nebulons, in their haste, hard-wired the central processing unit directly into the head cavity. To remove it could terminate it."**

I close my optics. What am I supposed to do…? Do I activate him? See what happens? Well… of course, but… what then? If he doesn't know who I am, what will he do? Where will he go?

What will _I_ do?

"**I would suggest, son of Capri, that you take your father's surrogate to the Nebulons. They can assist you far more than I could."**

The Nebulons… yeah, that's it. Maybe they could do some kind of cross-extraction, take _my _memories, and perhaps even some of Mom's, and splice them to recreate Dad's… it would be worth a shot.

However, all of that is gonna have to wait. It might have to wait a long while…

"I think I will, Grand…" I look up towards the ceiling, still feeling the need to look _somewhere_ while talking to the titan, "In the meantime, I think I've come to a decision… about the T-cog. I don't know why my father wanted me to find it, not when it's already in such a secure place… to take it away from here seems like it would be a bad idea, if all its use would be to allow a dangerous Cybertronian the power to destroy our home…" Turning away from the small protoform, I start towards the entrance of the chamber before pausing as I hear a sudden burst of raised voices at the other end of the hall—something's happening!

"Siren!" I run down the hallway, skidding out the doorway leading back into the main chamber where I left the others, freezing when I find Siren and Hosehead on the ground—stasis cuffs locked to their wrists. I look around frantically, unable to spot Fera or Devcon, "What happened?! Where are—"

"They took the T-cog, Nightbeat!" Hosehead struggles to shift up onto his knees, his turquoise optics flaring behind his visor as he grinds his teeth in rage, "Devcon took it from Siren and bolted with Fera!"

"What?" My spark sinks to the lowest pit of my core. I shake my helm in disbelief, "That's—he wouldn't do that…!"

Would he?

Siren's optics are shimmering as he looks up at me from the floor, "I-It's true, Nightbeat! You hafta stop them!"

My peds act before my processor can react, flying me across the chambers to a stairwell beside the elevator that brought us down here. I guess Grand Maximus can't keep an optic on everything that's going on within him, else he surely would've stopped Fera and Devcon—right?

Pushing open a heavy doorway that leads out to the open, my optics are drawn upwards just as the _Monacus_ is lifting up from a landing pad atop one of Grand's towers. My jaw goes slack, intakes closing up in shock as the ship blasts off into the skies.

This can't be happening.

He left us.

He left me.

He stole the cog…

Why?


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: Hey all, sorry for posting this a day late! I had a long day yesterday and was just too wiped out to write, but here's an extra long chapter to make up for that! XD; I can't believe how long this story has been, I'm pretty sure it'll pass up the first Sector Capri story (I think that has 43 chapters?) Sorry for all the feels in the last chapter SezWho and Meg, have some more! 8D

I'm having a fun time writing all the little flashbacks, so I've yet another for ya'll. X)

To all my Wonderful Readers and Reviewers, Please Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Her, the one with the red 'n white helm…"<em>

_Devcon looked to his brother with a smirk before following his line of sight to the bartender of the Rusty Ruby, "The one with the nice legs?"_

_Muzzle smiled and nodded, lowering his helm somewhat in a bashful manner—or maybe he was just tipsy, "Yeah, she's got those, too…"_

"_How'd you meet her? We're hardly ever on Cybertron long enough these days to really grow any __**roots**__ y'know…"_

"_Some heavies were givin' her trouble, so I brushed 'em off for her… I got some scrapes, 'n she patched me up, and we got on t' talkin'. She's training to be a nurse, isn't that great? A nurse… gotta have a good spark to be a nurse."_

_Devcon stared at his brother for a moment, "Primus, listen to __**you**__, ya gonna ask her to __**marry**__ you next?"_

"_I think I will…"_

_There was a pause, Devcon's golden optics widening, "Uh… __**what?**__ Are you serious? What the frag are you gonna do with a __**wife**__, Muzzle? We don't exactly have the __**accommodations**__ to take her along, and I don't think a femme like her would be willing to wait around for years on end between our visits to the planet…"_

_Muzzle looked down at his cube of highgrade and nodded, "Yeah, I know, Dev…"_

_Devcon paused once more, eyeing his brother with a look of uncertainty, "So… what're you saying, then?"_

_The other mech in midnight blue armor took in a slow vent of air before looking to his brother, "I'm saying, Dev… that I think it's time I backed outta the bounty hunting game. I thinks it's time for me to settle down… have a wife, maybe a kid… get a __**legit**__ job that I can support them with…"_

_A bitter frown quickly spread across the other's face, "A __**'legit' **__job doesn't earn a bot even a __**sliver**__ of what we get doin' our work! Primus, Muzz! With the way the Senate's runnin' this place, you won't have a choice in what job you get—you'll probably be __**drafted**__ into the fraggin' Enforcers!"_

"_Maybe I'm alright with that, Dev." Muzzle looked straight to his brother's optics, gold meeting gold, "If I'm gonna have a family, I wanna be something they can be proud of. No more bounty hunting. No more mercenary work. That life is over for me, I gotta cut it off."_

"_Oh, what, so you're saying you're gonna cut __**me**__ off, too? Huh? What, for some—some __**girl?**__ I'm your __**brother**__, Muzzle!"_

_Muzzle closed his optics and rubbed his forehead, "I didn't say that, Dev, in fact I want just the opposite—I want you to come __**with**__ me… C'mon, how much longer can our luck out there last? Do you know how many hits there are on __**our**__ heads? In places that most bots don't even __**know**__ about?"_

"_They don't know about 'em because this fraggin' government keeps them in the __**dark**__ about anything beyond this atmosphere! You're tellin' me you wanna __**let**__ them lock you down? After all these years? You wanna give up your __**freedom?**__"_

"_I'm not gonna run away anymore, Dev, Cybertron can be __**fixed**__, but it won't happen on its own if no bot stands up to the Senate—" _

"_Oh, hah, and what—__**you're**__ gonna do all this fixing?"_

"_Not alone, Dev, I can't. But I know I'm not the only one that wants to see this planet revitalized, to see __**change**__. There are others out there, and this is our __**home**__, Dev, we gotta fight for it… That's why I need you here…"_

"_I can't believe what I'm hearing, Muzz…" Devcon leaned back on his barstool, staring at his brother with a mixed look of disbelief and a grimace, "Not only do you wanna give up everything we've worked our afts off for, not __**only**__ do you wanna lock yourself down onto this __**one, single **__planet, but you wanna take __**me**__ down with you…?"_

"_Dev… This life won't last forever. We can't keep doing this—I mean, what's it all worth?"_

"_What's it all __**worth**__, Muzzle?" Devcon looked to his brother in shock," Primus, am I suddenly a scrap heap to you? We've got everything we've ever wanted! Freedom to go wherever we want, __**do **__whatever we want—we have so much money, we could live anywhere! Why __**here**__, Muzzle?"_

_Seeing his brother's temper flaring up quite rapidly, Muzzle stood, leading him out of the bar into a side alley in the back, turning to speak, "Because this is where we belong, Dev... and sure, we've got all the riches 'n good times to last us our lives sevenfold, but… what is it __**worth?**__ If we don't do anything to make a difference—a __**real**__ difference… then what is any of it worth? We can change Cybertron for the better, Dev, and we can make this our home again—" _

"_Do you even remember __**why**__ we left Cybertron in the first place? Primus, what is __**with**__ you? You see a nice aft and suddenly you wanna __**throw your life away**__?!" _

"_Don't you __**dare**__, Devcon! Don't you dare belittle my decision! If you don't wanna join me—then at least tell me that you're—" _

"_What, that I'm __**happy**__ for you? It should be pretty clear at this point that I'm fraggin' __**slagged off**__! How the scrap am I supposed to be __**happy**__ about this?!"_

_Muzzle threw up his arms and started to turn away, but was pulled back by his arm, "Just forget it, Devcon! You're not even gonna __**listen**__, so just forget it!"_

"_Frag you, ya little glitch! Look at what you're __**doing**__ here! I'm gonna be out a fraggin' good partner! You're screwin' me over, Muzzle! The Pit am I supposed to do if you flake out on me?!"_

"_Listen to you! You're so fragging selfish!" Muzzle pulled his arm free from his brother's hold before his optics flared as Devcon shoved him against the alley wall, "Slag off!"_

"_You think __**I'm**__ the one being selfish?! You don't even __**know**__ this girl, Muzz! You're gonna frag up both our lives for her?! Some broad with a nice set of rims is more important to you than your own fragging __**brother?!**__"_

_Muzzle shoved his brother off, "Why does it have to be like this with you?! You think everything is about __**you! **__This is about me now! I'm making a change, Devcon, because I have enough processing power to know that the life we're living now can't last forever—and someday, we're gonna want __**more**__ than what money can buy! It's gonna be too late, Dev, we'll be fraggin' worn out 'n wasted and we'll be alone!"_

_Reacting to the shove, Devcon pushed his brother against the wall again, "Alone?! What about __**me**__, you unbelievable __**aft!**__ We made a __**deal**__, Muzz! We made a fragging deal that we'd never abandon each other, and now you're doing exactly that! You're tossin' me out for some dead-headed __**femme**__ that got yer diodes throbbin'!"_

_A sudden crack sounded in the alleyway as Muzzle's fist met his brother's face, silencing the shouted argument. The silence didn't last, however, as Devcon was quick to reply, screaming furiously as he slammed himself into the other mech, tackling him back against the wall before delivering a brunt punch to his jaw. The two Capri-native brothers exchanged blow after blow, venting their frustrations and anger against one another, drawing energon and denting dermal plating. _

_Gradually, the two began to lose their steam, their strikes on one another becoming half-sparked, intakes heaving air raggedly as energon ran from damaged olfactory sensors and busted cheeks. Muzzle shoved his brother against the wall one more time before holding onto his shoulders, letting his forehead fall against his brother's chest armor. Angered grunts turned to withheld sounds of choking up as the brothers stood together in the alleyway, the bright sphere of Moonbase II shining down on them. _

"_I have to do this, Dev… I need to… and I want to…" Muzzle clenched his optics and bleeding teeth tightly shut as his hands tightened their grip on his brother's shoulders. _

_Devcon's face contorted in a look of deeply seated pain as he looked to the moon, his hands rising up to hold onto Muzzle's back armor, "I know… I just wish you didn't…"_

"_I love her, Dev… I wanna be with her... I want a new life with her…"_

_Devcon closed his golden optics, "I know."_

* * *

><p>"Devcon, are you still with me?"<p>

Devcon raises his optic ridges as he's drawn from his thoughts by the gentle voice, turning to look to Fera, "Yeah… I'm still with you."

Fera stares at Devcon for a moment, sitting in the co-pilot's seat beside him. She reaches out and rests her hand on the midnight blue mech's arm, "He'll understand, Devcon… When he's older, Nightbeat will understand…"

Devcon returns his focus to the endless void beyond the hull of the _Monacus_, optics dimming, "Will he…?"

* * *

><p>I don't understand.<p>

He left us.

Why?

I don't know how long I've been staring up at the sky, or how long Siren and Hosehead have been standing with me. My optics are burning as I keep them pinpointed on the cloud I saw Devcon's ship disappear through. Maybe I'm expecting him to come back. Maybe if I stare long enough, time will reverse itself and all of this will have just been a bad line of code.

"Nightbeat…" Siren's voice quietly cuts through the fog filling my processor.

I turn and look at him, my face feeling numb, "Huh…?"

The pale blue mech's optics widen a bit, glancing to Hosehead before he looks to me again, "What… What do we do now?"

What do we do?

My thoughts are distant and clashing, and it takes me a moment to voice a reply, "Uh…"

I didn't say it was a _good_ reply.

"**Son of Capri. A vessel has entered the asteroid field that I teleported you from. It has breached my open teleportation gate and is on a direct course towards us."**

My helm snaps up at Grand Maximus's news—is he coming back? Why the frag did he fly away—was there some kind of danger out there that he had to take care of? Did he hide the cog somewhere else?

All optics are focused on the skies above as a spacecraft enters the atmosphere of the planetoid—but my spark sinks as I make out a familiar, red hull. Lockdown's stolen ship.

That means Prowl, Grimlock, and Mom.

It's over. It's all over. We were so close, I finally reached the truth—only to be slapped in the face by yet another mystery. I didn't expect Devcon to be the mystery, though… I didn't expect my family to turn on me.

"**What are your orders, son of Capri?"**

Orders? This city-sized mech is asking _me_ for orders?

Primus, Dad, you must've really had quite the name around here if a city-former is asking your _kid_ for orders…

"Ah—I know them, it's alright, let them land…" Turning, we watch as the ship comes in for a landing on one of Grand's landing pads, the landing tower slowly lowering afterwards.

"Nightbeat… why did Devcon take the cog? What's he gonna do with it?"

I look down at Siren, my visor dimming as I see just as much hurt in his optics as I feel in my own. I reach out and hold his shoulder, "I don't know, Si… I don't know why he did it… but… it looks like this is the end of the road…"

"B-But… But Trypticon's cog is dangerous! If it gets into the wrong hands—!"

"He could be working for those Decepticons you've told me about." Hosehead's sharp tone draws our attention towards him as he crosses his arms, "I warned you about Fera, Nightbeat, but you didn't listen." A resentful frown grows on his face as he glares at me, "You shouldn't be so surprised—bounty hunters have no _honor_, they're the scum of the universe that are only looking out for themselves and for what they can _take_ from everyone else."

You're gonna rub my face in it, huh.

You've just pushed your luck, pal, and I'm already past my snapping point.

"**Nightbeat—!"**

Siren must be some kind of soothsayer to know to shout my name just before I slam my fist across Hosehead's face, putting a crack through the Colonist's turquoise visor. My vocalizer burns as I shout at the top of my intakes at him, "Shut the frag up! You don't know what you're talking about! We don't know what Devcon's doing! My _father_ was a bounty hunter, and he was the greatest mech I've ever known!"

Hosehead is grounded by my strike, shocked for a moment before he wipes his bloody nose and pushes himself to his peds, "Right, because only a _great mech_ sends their son on a wild chase to find a _doomsday device _that _should never_ have been found again in the first place!"

"**Stop! Stop fighting!" **Siren's voice rises in horror as he watches Hosehead come at me.

My fists are raised as I parry the first strike the red mech sends at me, only to discover it was a feign as the Colonist's other fist crushes into my gut, winding me to the point that I nearly purge. I barely have any time to recover as I'm struck across the face, energon spattering from a gash that's split open on my cheek.

"Try to tell _me _that I don't know what I'm talking about when it comes to bounty hunters?! My life was _destroyed_ by them! They took everything I had! I don't care if he was your uncle, you were a fool to have trusted him! They're all the same!" Hosehead grabs me by the throat as he shouts at my face, his words fragging me off more than the hits.

A feral sound leaves me as I bite the hand grabbing at my throat, startling Hosehead enough to get an opening. Taking it without a moment's hesitance, I begin pummeling the red-clad mech with my fists, my peds following his as he gets pushed back by each hit. My vision begins to black out as rage fills my processor, a distant echo to the experience I had when the dark energon stones infected me, and I keep hitting the other mech. Eventually, I have him down on the ground, still receiving fighting hits to my own face but not caring anymore, screams leaving my vocalizer; but I don't know what I'm saying.

Suddenly, a strong set of arms wrap tightly around me, pinning my arms to my sides before abruptly pulling me up from my opponent, my vision filling with blue skies as I'm lifted into the air. Enraged screams continue to leave me, vents of air hissing through my clenched teeth, my entire chassis feeling as though it's on fire.

"Nightbeat! Calm _down!"_

That voice—it's…

I clench my optics shut, my battle cries shifting into pitiful, half-sobbed gasps for air. My chassis shakes as the adrenaline rushes through my energon lines, still wanting a fight, but now overloaded with pent up emotions of rage, hatred, sorrow, fear, and helplessness. It's over.

It's all over.

The arms around me loosen slightly as I stop fighting their hold, and I'm eased down onto my peds, a set of white hands attached to the arms turning me around to face the owner.

Prowl kneels in front of me and holds my shoulders, his ice blue optics piercing through my visor. His hands tighten and loosen unevenly, as if he's convincing himself I'm really in his hold. I hardly even have the thinking capacity to realize I'm crying like a frustrated sparkling in front of him, but he doesn't seem to care, his arms bringing me closer. I'm brought into a firm, tight embrace, and somehow it helps that it isn't very gentle.

"H-He left me…!" A painful lump forms in my throat as I press my face into Prowl's neck, hiding myself in shame from the sight of the others as much as I can.

"It's alright, Nightbeat…"

"N-No it isn't!" My hands are nearly balled into fists as I grab onto Prowl's armor as tightly as I can, as if I'll fall forever if I'm not holding onto him.

"This isn't your fight, Nightbeat, you're coming home now… you've done everything you could, it's alright…"

A sharp groan escapes my vocalizer as I shake my helm in refusal, "No! It _isn't! _H-He took the _cog_, Prowl! He took Trypticon's cog and I don't know what he's gonna do with it!"

Prowl pauses at that and looks to my visor, "Trypticon's cog…? You found it?"

I nod sharply and wipe roughly at my face to rid it of the coolant that's rolled down my cheeks from my optics, "I-It was being guarded here by Grand Maximus, and Devcon, he—he took it and he left us here!"

The Praxian's optics brighten as his door panels arch on his back in alert—he must know what Trypticon's cog is and what it means. Surprising, considering how much is kept secret usually even from Enforcers. He then shakes his helm a little in confusion, "Who is Grand Maximus? Where is he?"

I rub my optics under my visor, my intakes a bit shaky as I try to calm down, my voice quiet, "Look around… he's all over…"

"What—?"

Prowl's question is somewhat answered as Grand Maximus's voice booms over the landscape, **"Alert. Hostile Shi-Lai forces are en-route towards the Beta-Tri Spacebridge leading into Cybertronian space boundaries. Immediate action recommended."**

"The Shi-Lai…" Prowl looks up and around at the tall towers of Grand's city form, "How much time do we have until they make it to the bridge?"

"**One half joor."**

"We should have enough time to make it back to the Beta-Tri Quadrant in time to beat them to it—but we need a way to get to the spacebridge, the Decepticons will surely be guarding it…" Prowl turns his helm to look over as Grimlock approaches from the ship, looking down at us.

"Sound like fun. Gonna go bust some Shi-Lai heads, who's comin' with?" Grimlock reaches a large hand down, one of his chunky fingers pushing at the side of my cheek—maybe his way of saying 'buck up'?

Prowl stands to his full height, frowning as he tries to think things through, "If Devcon is planning to give the Trypticon cog to Megatron, then we've even more dangers to deal with here. If Trypticon is able to transform into his war machine mode, he could destroy Iacon in a matter of sols…" He then pauses and looks up at Grimlock, "Ah—come again? We're not going to _fight_ the Shi-Lai, Grimlock, that would be _suicide._ We're going to get to the spacebridge, back to Cybertron, then we'll find a way to destroy the bridge from the other side so the Shi-Lai can't follow."

Grimlock crosses his thick arms and shakes his helm, "Nope."

"What—_why_?" The Praxian's door panels arch highly on his back in vexation.

Wow, it normally takes Prowl much longer to get so annoyed, he and Grimlock must have spent a lot of time together in the past however many cycles they've been out here. The Dinobot has clearly gotten under Prowl's plating.

Grimlock leans forward a little, his red visor flaring against Prowl's ice blue optics, "Cuz I got bots in those Shi-Lai ships. Bots taken as slaves. That don't fly with me."

I look over to Hosehead to find him attentively looking at Grimlock now, and that's when I also notice Siren staring at something towards Lockdown's ship. Following his line of sight, I feel my spark skip a beat when I see my mother stepping off the ship. Slipping past the conversing mechs, I go over to her, looking up at her in silence.

I feel a sense of gratitude as she doesn't give me the time to say anything, instead taking me into her arms, hugging me warmly. A wave of exhaustion hits me as I melt into the embrace, my optics closing as I let her support my weight as she holds me close, leaning into her.

"Grimlock, you can do whatever you want—but you will _not_ jeopardize the safety of Minerva and the boys; they are my top priority, and I am responsible for them. I'm taking them back to Cybertron, and I'm taking the ship in order to do so. You can catch a different ride to your death wish however it appeases you to."

Grimlock starts to growl lowly at the Praxian before he perks up and sniffs around, sensing Grand's presence but not quite sure where to… well, _place_ his presence.

"**Grimlock, I am Grand Maximus. I will take you to the Shi-Lai, as I too plan to fight them so that I may defend Cybertron's sovereignty."**

The Dinobot leader seems a bit jumpy for a moment at the sound of the loud voice before he chuckles, "Finally, somebot worth stickin' around with."

"I'll go with you, too."

Grimlock blinks and looks down at the source of the unfamiliar voice, surprised at the sight of a small, red-armored Colonist. A low gurgle rumbles in his throat as he bends over a little to take a closer look at the bruised up (thanks to me) mech, "You think you got what it takes to roll with big guns? Think you can kill a soul?"

Hosehead narrows his optics behind his translucent, cracked visor, "I know I can. I have."

One way or another, Hosehead's six little words are enough to convince Grimlock, the heavy-set mech nodding in approval, "Then we got another fighter on board."

"Grimlock, he's just a child—"

Hosehead rounds on Prowl, glaring up at him as he speaks, "I'm not one of your people, so you don't have a say over what I do." His gaze then moves past the Praxian, and lands on me.

I return the stare to the other mech, knowing that we're splitting paths now; that I might never see him again.

"We need to get going." Prowl sighs as he looks over to Siren, gently taking the smaller bot's wrist, leading him along like a child that's never seen or experienced anything for himself.

These adults, how little they realize of the truth. I've probably seen more than Prowl and Mom combined… and I may never tell them that. Siren and I will just keep being treated like children, and we'll be forced to continue on with the lives we're put in, too big for our frames.

Is that why you became a bounty hunter, dad? Was it your only way out of their control? Is that why you and Devcon left Cybertron?

I watch as the Dinobots pile out of the stolen ship, the large mechs of various shapes and sizes walking over to join their leader—and Hosehead. My tanks begin to tighten in an uneasy feeling as I'm led with Siren towards the ship, and finally I force myself to break away from Mom and Prowl, running over to the other group of bots. I stop in front of Hosehead, and we lock optics.

He could die. I could die. I might never see him again. After all, why would I? He's not from Cybertron, and he'll probably never pay a visit to it, either. So what do I say to him?

Hosehead's features are cool and steady as he observes me. It's hard to know what he might be thinking, until he raises his hand, offering it to me. I look down at it for a moment before returning my optics to his, extending my own hand, and shaking his with it.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't…" I give a small smirk to the Colonist.

Hosehead returns the smirk, "Hn, I should be set, then."

I nod to the other mech, neither of us voicing our goodbyes. Perhaps neither of us wants to, in fear of jinxing the other to an untimely offlining. Turning, I go back to rejoin Siren and the others, the four of us boarding Lockdown's ship.

Siren and I take our seats in the back rows of the cockpit, buckling in before we both look out the side portholes to watch the bots outside, their forms growing smaller as the ship lifts off and away from the planet. I'll find Grand Maximus again someday. I'll take my father's copied processor to the Nebulons, and I'll do everything I can to bring him back.

A teleportation portal opens in front of the ship, courtesy of Grand, and we're escorted back into the asteroid field in the Beta-Tri Quadrant. So this is it. We're really going back to Cybertron…

It's strange, but… I feel like it may never be quite the same again, going back home…

I almost feel… _more_ at home out here…

I must get it from my dad…

Turning my helm, I look over to Siren to check on him, smirking softly as I find his large, red optics set on me. His intense look of worry melts away a little, a small smile showing itself on his face. We sure did have fun, huh? Yeah, we did.

You've really proven yourself, Si… I couldn't be more proud. What a soldier… what a fighter. Who knew you could have a baby face _and_ be able to kick so much aft? They'll never see you comin', kid…

I watch as my friend's optics begin to grow heavy, impressed that he's even managed to keep himself going this long. He's hardly even gotten a wink of recharge this whole time… and whenever he did, it was kind of a result of having extensive bodily injury. So, not sure how much that counts.

Just as things begin to sink into a relaxed mood aboard the ship, however, an audio-busting crash suddenly sounds, sparks flying from the ship's main control panels as a heavy tremor shakes us all.

"We've been hit! Everyone, brace yourselves!" Prowl tightens his hold on the navigation controls as he attempts evasive maneuvers, unsure of where exactly we're being attacked from. His optics widen, however, as he comes to a horrible realization, "I—I can't control the ship! It's locking up!"

Locking up? What does that mean? How does a ship lock up? Unless… it's being done remotely from beyond the ship—by somebot who knows just _how_ to lock it.

"Prowl, I think we're about to have company."

Suddenly, the front screen in the cockpit flickers on, Lockdown's ugly visage focusing into view, "Very good, Nightbeat. I always knew you were the fastest piston in the engine. Now, then… I hope you've all had your fun, but I'd like to have my ship back now."


End file.
